Reflect
by WerewolvesAreReal
Summary: To be sent back; to revert; to return. Glorfindel's prodding and tormenting had pushed Erestor/Harry too far. But Erestor won't fade without a fight... And is this guilt Glorfindel feels? Rated for swearing, no slash. LoTR/HP crossover. UP FOR ADOPTION.
1. Chapter 1

**First try at Lotr fic, tell me how you like it!**

**Disclaimer:I do not own this, not making money, its Tolkien's, yada yada, meh.**

Prologue

Reflect

He gave up.

'_You win.' _He stared at his hands, flexing his fingers. They felt cold. No elf should feel cold in anything but the worst of weather. '_You win, Glorfindel. I'm done. You were right all along. I am weak, and I am worthless, and I was a fool to think I could ever be anything but. You win.'_

Cold night air shot through the thin fabric of his cloak, and he pulled it around his body tighter, shivering. This was unnatural, this coldness; the Fair Folk were immune to such mundane things as the cold. And yet here he was, shivering as though he were one of the _Edain _again.

He was weak.

'_But if I am weak, Glorfindel, it is by no fault of my own but of you. The Fair Folk! Pah! Elves may be just as cruel as Men.'_

He flexed his chilled hand again, the other warm in his pocket. He watched it through sad green eyes, looking immediately to the scars, as always.

_I will not tell lies._

He brought out his other hand than, ignoring the biting chill. He traced the words etched in his skin as though in a trance. His hand lingered on the last letter, and then he let his hands fall. He squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head to the side.

No _normal _elf could scar.

Another one of his oddities to the people of Imladris. One on his head, one on his hand, both plain to see, both equally odd in shape and area even had he not been one of the Firstborn. Visions flickered across his face then-visions of blood and fire and screams, and the dead, so many dead. Too many of them were friends, family almost…

Once upon a time he had gone by the name of Harry Potter… but, that had been over two thousand years ago. But if there was one curse upon the elves it was that which the more foolish man might think a gift-there memory. The elves recalled memory as well as the waking world. The problem was that this extended to all memories of his time as a mortal as well. An especially strong gust of wind came, and the sharp coldness brought him to his senses. Gathering his cloak about himself again he turned and entered the library again. He shut the glass doors to the overhang connected to the library, his sanctuary. He began to walk back to 'his' desk, enjoying the warmth returning to him. He sat and took his quill, dipping it carefully in the ink. He suddenly felt very tired.

He stopped for a moment as this thought occurred to him.

Elves should not be tired, either.

He dipped the quill in his ink again and continued writing his report.

What recovery was this? Did the Valar enjoy pranks? His whole life seemed to be one. He had been sent to them on his seventeenth birthday, just about a month after the war had ended. He had elvish blood, they told him. Not enough, normally, to be given the choice to become an immortal. But he had the blood, and the curse used on him as a baby had been enough to bring it to life. This blood, less than a quarter of his makeup, had had extremely averse effects to the dark curse. The blood from each of his parents, coupled with the loving light-magic of an almost-elf women had saved his life. It had also awakened his blood, and though he had grown a human he could then chose to be immortal.

He wanted to say no. He had seen to much. He did not want to see more, much less such misery again and again throughout the ages. He wanted it to all end, not an everlasting torture. But something had held him back, and before he was aware of what he was doing he had accepted. And then they had offered another choice. He was still healing, they said, still grieving. And there would be few of his kind on Earth. It was not the right place for him. So, what about middle-earth? He would heal there, they promised, and just wishing the memories to stop he had agreed almost before they could finish the offer.

He had yet to find out why Middle-Earth was the right choice.

Elves should not be cold. Elves should not be tired. But then, elves should not be scarred, either. And could he really be called an elf when he was over three-fourths _Edain?_ He hadn't realized he had stopped writing, but he suddenly became aware he was fingering his scar again. He let his hands drop, eyes reading the words again.

_I must not tell lies._

He had told many lies.

The words were in English. If there was one thing he liked about the terrible reminder on his hand it was that. This meant no one on Middle-Earth could understand it, and as the characters of English looked so alien to those of Middle-earth they assumed it was not writing at all-just a series of small, odd scars. He took a deep, shuddering breath and picked the quill up once more. He scratched out a few more words, but realized his hand was still a little cold, and he wasn't writing as well as he should be/. Stifling his impatience he rubbed his hands together quickly, trying to gain heat.

This should not be happening, but it was. He had held it off for centuries, and he had finally given up. Nothing was going to change. He knew that know. A shiny tear pricked at his eye, blurring his vision, and he blinked it off quickly. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing for a few more moments, and then Erestor opened his eyes. His hands were warm again. He picked up his quill and resumed the report. He would be fine again tomorrow. Fading was a slow process.

* * *

They all looked a little surprised when Erestor entered the room. He was always welcome to eat with them, them being Elrond, Elladon, Elhohir, Aragorn, and Glorfindel. He did not, however, often show. Indeed, normally he preferred to keep to himself, going directly to the kitchens and eating there or in his rooms. Elrond smiled warmly, apparently pleased at his arrival. "Will you be joining us today, Erestor?" He sounded sincerely surprised with this development, but not displeased. Elrond had of late been asking him to join them for meals more often. He rarely agreed to come, but knew Elrond was rather puzzled with his increasing reluctance. Aside from formal affairs he still normally attended an average of half a dozen dinners with the household each year. This amount had diminished the last few years. Erestor was fairly certain he had not ate with them for anything but formal dinners in nearly two. Time meant little to elves, but this was odd even for him.

A chair was quickly brought, as was a meal, and in the blink of the eye Erestor sat at the table as though he was there every day. The atmosphere at the table, however, spoke otherwise. The twins and Aragorn tried to engage their 'guest' in conversation. He smiled at their attempts, answering in turn, but they soon grew disinterested in his bland and reserved responses and let him be. Erestor really could not bring himself to focus much on them. His attention was focused mainly on Glorfindel next to him.

Glorfindel had made no sign to acknowledge his presence, but that was expected. After several minutes Erestor realized Glorfindel would not be making any snide remarks or insults in front of Elrond. He knew better than that. He was able to relax a little more fully then.

Why had he come? He wasn't completely sure. A small frown creased his brow, then cleared as Erestor schooled his face blank.

_Elrond has done nothing to me, _he reasoned to himself. _He is no friend to me, of course, but he cares for everyone, event he most unlikable of people. For one who lives in his house to Fade… He would feel terrible, especially being a healer. I can at least let him know I place no blame with him.._

There was a knock on the door. Elrond paused in his conversation with he twins. "Enter."

A messenger walked in, clothing showing that he was from Lothlorien. He looked young, and ducked his head a little at the attention of such people. "My apologies. I bear an urgent message, my lords, from the Lady-" Elrond stood before he had finished.

"Of course, of course," he agreed. He spared an apologetic nod to those seated, then followed the messenger from the hall.

Erestor ate a few more bites of the well-cooked venison, then paused, suddenly aware of the tense atmosphere at the table. He dared glance up quickly and espied the quick, apprehensive looks the younger three shot between him and Glorfindel. Elrond, after all, was now gone.

He tried to go back to eating, hoping everything might still go smoothly, but he should have known better.

"Where did you get that scar, Erestor?"

The voice was innocent, casual, but laced with an unmistakable undertone of scorn. Elladan, Elohir, and Aragorn stiffened. Erestor ignored Glorfindel's question, one he asked nearly every time the seneschal ran across the raven-haired advisor.

A hand stayed his wrist s he tried to continue eating. "It is quite rude, you know, to ignore questions."

Erestor slid his arm from the warrior's grasp. "It may also be considered rude to harass others," Erestor said evenly.

"You could answer, you know." Glorfindel smiled icily. "Is it too embarrassing to even discuss?"

The three 'children', as Erestor thought of them, were now growing very uneasy.

"Glorfindel-"

Erestor's voice cut him off. His voice was cold enough to cause the other's to shiver.

_Real Elves do not get cold._

"Are you happy with yourself, Glorfindel?" the elf beside him raised his brows mildly, a look on his face suggesting he was fairly certain Erestor was now talking nonsense.

"With what, may I ask?"

"What you have been hoping for these last centuries, I should think. And you have finally succeeded." He stood. He did not care he sounded insane to the four in front of him. He did not want Elrond to feel guilt, but Glorfindel was another matter. Glorfindel would, he was sure, rejoice thoroughly in his passing, but he had to say something.

_You win._

"_You win, you bastard," _he spat in English. The elves stared at him, baffled. Tears pricked at his eyes-he tried to focus on his anger, but he faded because of grief and sadness, not fury. _"I am fading. You have succeeded where hundreds before have failed. You have killed me."_

Tears unshed, he spat at the feet of his most hated enemy, turned, and stalked all the way to his rooms. Then he shut the door and fell to the floor, letting the tears fall at last.

* * *

"What you have been hoping for these last centuries, I should think. And you have finally succeeded."

Erestor then said something else, something in a strange and rough tongue Glorfindel had never before heard. Unshed tears glittered in his eyes, but his words were not sad but angry, furious. He spat on the ground at Glorfindel's feet, then spun and stalked from the room in high dungeon.

The door slammed shut behind him.

"Why must you prod him so?" Elladan, after a moment of shocked silence, had recovered enough to scold him. "He just sits there quietly and takes it all while you push him farther and farther. What crime has Erestor committed, Glorfindel, to warrant your actions?"

"Is it I alone, then, who finds him suspicious?" he demanded. "He walks through the house like a shadow, friend to none, presenting naught but a cold face and stiff words. He slinks about in the dark and holds nothing but disdain for all-"

"Ai! Ai! A shadow, he says!" cried Elohir. "Aye! And is that such a bad thing? He walks as a shadow, and is as harmless as one as well! There is no reason for you hatred, Son of the House of the Golden Flower!"

"There is something wrong about him!" Glorfindel stood as well, now flushed with anger. He would perhaps have continued had not a servant chose that moment to open the doors with drinks. The elf glanced at them, then did a double-take. Seeing the fury of the Balrog Slayer, he hastily closed the doors and wisely went back to the kitchens. Glorfindel took a deep breath, calming himself. He looked at the twins and a solemn Aragorn squarely.

"There is more to that elf that meets the eye, and nothing of it is good, I am certain. I do not judge so without reason!"

"Perhaps," Aragorn said quietly. "But do you have the right reasons?"

* * *

**A/N: Please R&R!**


	2. Elrohir's Plot

**A/N: Okay, to clear up a few questions, Erestor will _not _be dying in this; I can never kill off any characters. Torture them, sure, but not kill them. Anyway, point is I'm _hoping _to try and make Erestor & Glorfindel eventually friends. Maybe. Not quite sure if I can find a believable way of doing it with how evil Glorfindel is being but, yeah... I can try, right?**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings nor any of its content, including character's, places, etc. I make no money from any of this content._

**Elrohir's Plan**

* * *

Glorfindel paced his room swiftly, counting the steps and trying to calm down _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, turn, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, turn, one, two, three, four, five, turn… _His strides grew longer, his movements swifter, and soon he was a blur. Abruptly Glorfindel spun on his heel and switched direction. This was not helping at all; he needed to clear his head.

Glorfindel left his rooms, going outside to straighten his thoughts. He soon came across a tall elm tree he often sat by and climbed its braches. In seconds he was seated amidst its leaves, barely discernable in the night.

He leaned back against the trunk and contemplated the reason for his anger.

Erestor! He was infuriating, that elf. There was something about him that unsettled Glorfindel. He felt almost _familiar, _and though Glorfindel was not certain how or why he was familiar he knew better than to disregard his instincts. He could not pinpoint what was familiar, but he knew Erestor was somehow connected with some of his darker memories. Elves could always sense things like that.

But this was not the reason for Glorfindel's ire.

It had unsettled him, yes, and even had it not been for other events Glorfindel may have been wary about Erestor anyway. But this wasn't just a feeling. He _knew _there was something wrong about Erestor.

Over eight centuries ago Glorfindel had come to live in Rivendell with Elrond, who by that time had for over a thousand years been lord of Imladris. Glorfindel had long been friends with Elrond, but he had never before met Erestor.

The first sight of the quiet advisor had sent his blood cold and his warrior instincts screaming 'danger'. He had been tense the whole evening, and while all of Rivendell had celebrated his coming Glorfindel remained troubled. Yet Erestor was polite, if perhaps a little aloof, and try as he might Glorfindel could not identify the cause of his worry. He had been uneasy the first month of his stay, but just as he decided he might pass it off and ignore the darkness that seemed to surround the silent elf he had stumbled upon Erestor outside one night. Erestor had taken no notice of him.

Glorfindel had been contemplating whether or not he should go forth and attempt to speak to Erestor. His hackles rose at the thought, but he could not, he decided, fear this strange elf forever. Erestor had still not noticed him, for Glorfindel had been resting upon an oak. Glorfindel had just decided to reveal himself to Erestor when the snake appeared.

Glorfindel had frowned when he'd noticed the snake. Not very venomous even for humans, only causing a bit of dizziness, much less for an elf, but no one liked to be bitten, and this particular type of snake was rather temperamental. He opened his mouth to call to Erestor, and then saw that the advisor had also noticed the serpent.

But Erestor did not walk away.

Instead, with Glorfindel watching, he approached the snake. What was he doing? It didn't worry him any-at least he was now aware of the snake, even if Glorfindel himself would not have approached it. Perhaps he was curious and wanted a better look at the reptile-snakes were not very common in Imladris.

And them he started _hissing _at it.

The balrog-slayer had stared in disbelief, and his heart had begun beating quickly. Surely, he thought desperately, Erestor was simply acting a little childish and mimicking the sounds of the snake… People did that, sometimes, yes? But even as he watched the snake hissed back, and then slithered closer to the black-haired elf. Erestor had held out an arm and the snake had climbed on it, and then Erestor had continued on, not looking at all fazed, still hissing at the serpent.

Glorfindel's mind had been whirling. Erestor could talk to snakes?

Talking to beast, in general, was accepted. Some Istari, Glorfindel knew, could converse with beast. But if Erestor was a beast-speaker it would surely be more well-known; after a month such news would surely have reached his ears.

There was nothing wrong with beast-speakers, but snakes in general had very dark minds. Glorfindel knew of only three cases where one could speak to a specific type of animal only, and all three were not the sort of company which should be anywhere within leagues of Imladris whilst still in possession of their head. The language of serpents was a reportedly a dark skill, learnt namely by those requiring more eyes and ears and who wished mastery over all the lands and that in them, not just Men and Elves and Dwarf but the birds and beasts as well. Glorfindel could finally find credence for the source of his ill-feelings…

But what should he do now?

Despite what he wished to do he could not slay the elf here and now, and his heart sank, for he had no proof of what Erestor had done. Who would believe him? A dream, the elves would say, assured their invisible advisor was incapable of such acts. It was quite possible, after all. Elves had very vivid dreams. But Glorfindel knew what he saw.

Watching the next few weeks, Glorfindel noticed an increasing amount of oddities about Erestor. Too many, in his opinion. His strange green eyes, his two scars, his clumsiness, his silence... He found himself snapping at the bewildered advisor often, and he could muster no guilt at this; he had begun to hate the advisor, feeling a fury rise within himself at the mere sight of him. Finally he began actively taunting and mocking the advisor in view of any but Elrond, hoping Erestor might one day slip up in public and reveal… something. He never had, but Glorfindel could wait. He had eternity after all.

* * *

Elrohir shook his head slowly, staring at the door through which Glorfindel had left. "Ai! Why must he taunt Erestor so? And then Glorfindel is so bold as to fault his silence around him-I certainly see no reason Erestor should want to speak in his presence!"

"What grievance has Erestor done to him?" Elladan wondered.

"Naught which I can tell," Estel answered. "The last I have heard Erestor speak for anything but business… Was there such a time?"

"If such a time there was, it was long enough ago, brother, that even elf-minds remember it not. How might Erestor have offended Glorfindel, then?"

"Some hatred is blind, for all that Glorfindel denies this; and if neither shall speak of their feud to others, how may we discern if this is falsehood? I see no reasoning in Glorfindel's cruelty." Elrohir frowned. "Something must be done. _Ada _is troubled enough as is with the rousing darkness of the shadow-lands; and they need a real truce, no feigned civility due to the orders of _Ada._"

"Hmm." Elladan was unimpressed. "Would you like to reason with them, Elohir?"

"Did I say anything of reasoning with them?"

"What do you plan to do, then?"

"_Ada _is sending a party to Mirkwood, you recall?"

"Pah!" Elladan now was convinced his brother was insane. "Have you taken leave of your senses? They would slaughter each other!"

"Not if we go with them!" Elrohir declared. "Let us see how they stand each other's company when forced to work together!"

"Elladan, do you truly think either will agree? Erestor scarcely goes anywhere but the library, his office, his chambers, and the kitchen. And you suggest he leave to Mirkwood? With Glorfindel, no less?"

"They will both agree, if _Ada _asks them to go."

"You said _Ada _will not-"

"He need not be aware of the details!" Elrohir insisted. "Erestor is his chief advisor and a skilled speaker, for all his silence, and Glorfindel the mightiest warrior of Rivendell." This was perhaps not true, but Elohir could not know this. "It will take but the smallest of proddings; this meeting is very serious, and it should not seem so odd to any to send the best."

"Perhaps," Estel murmured thoughtfully. It _did _seem fairly logical. Still, though… "But do you truly expect that they become friends, after so much hate-"

"Friends? Of course not!" Elohir grimaced. "I should truly be mad to suggest such a thing; but if nothing else we must stop this ceaseless quarreling!"

* * *

"Have you decided who is to be traveling to Mirkwood, _Ada_?"

Elrond looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow at his eldest son. "You wish to go?"

Elladan nodded. "Aye, we do-and Estel as well, I think. We've wanted to visit Legolas soon, in any case, and I should not want to subject other elves to this traveling. Most are content to stay in Imladris forever-how very boring!"

Elrond smiled faintly. "Yes, I think that would be for the best. The elves of Rivendell are no warriors, and you shall certainly represent us sufficiently. But I'll still need to find a few more…" he frowned in thought.

Next to Elladan Elrohir pretended to think this over. "Glorfindel, maybe? He would be willing, I think, and there is no better in Rivendell."

Elrond thought this over a little longer. With Glorfindel leaving their most skilled warrior would be gone, but dark things were stirring in Mordor. For one it vital to receive information from Mirkwood, who lay under the shadow of Dol Goldur; the task was certainly important enough to send Glorfindel. He held great respect from all elves-even stubborn Thranduil heeded the words of the balrog-slayer. And if fell beasts were coming from Mordor it would likely be more dangerous than was usual. Yes, they needed experience. All four were also skilled enough to need no the warriors with them-a good bonus. "Very well. I'll speak with my advisors and find one to accompany you-"

"Perhaps Erestor?" Elladan blurted.

Elrond was rightfully surprised. He gave his sons an odd look. "Erestor? Why, I have never seen Erestor leave Rivendell in over two thousand years…"

"Maybe not; but is this expedition not important? You know Thranduil; he means well enough, but he is too proud, and will be loathe to speak of any small 'weakness' of his people. Erestor_ is_ your most skilled diplomat."

Elrond eyed his sons carefully. Why, they seemed to have the whole expedition planned before he could even approve them! But he conceded to their points. The journey would be rough and Thranduil tight-lipped. Glorfindel and Erestor seemed the only logical choices.

Finally he gave an abrupt nod. "If both agree you shall set out one week from now," he declared. He pretended not to see their looks of triumph, praying to the Valar his sons were not so foolish as to jeopardize this meeting with Thranduil with whatever they were planning.

* * *

"Erestor?"

Erestor looked up from his scroll with surprise, and then ducked his head as he saw the twins. If he were _Edain _he would be bright-red as he recalled the incident the day before. "Yes?"

He heard the barely perceptible pattering of elf-feet and collected himself enough to raise his head. Elladan leaned against the wall, and Elrohir glanced at his twin quickly. Then he spoke.

"Erestor, I would assume you know of _Ada's_ intention to send a party to Mirkwood." Erestor nodded. He did enough with the paperwork and reports to know quite a good deal about the going-ons of Rivendell, much less a matter such as this. Elrond was sending a group to Mirkwood sometime soon, intending to find out more about the growing number of orcs in the land, as well as the frequent fire said to be lit within Mordor. If anyone would know about the fell beasts that dwelt there it was the Mirkwood elves.

"Of course." He gave them a puzzled look. He was normally not disturbed within the library. Oh, elves came and went, but he ignored them and them he. He was normally only alerted to urgent matters in person. Anything lesser was left on his desk in his barely-used office for him to find-he only went there each day to collect and paperwork or news left for him. None visited him except occasionally a bored and mocking Glorfindel.

Things were getting stranger and stranger around here.

"Well, considering the weight of this situation-" -oh, Erestor was getting a bad feeling- "it was decided that-should you agree, of course-it would be best for you to be the representative of Imladris."

Erestor stared.

Surely, he thought, they spoke in jest? But they looked quite serious. He _was _a good diplomat, but everyone knew that was only within Rivendell! He was _never _asked to do such things!

He stayed in Rivendell for a _reason. _Despite Glorfindel's presence he knew he was most stable here. Imladris was protected by Vilya, Elrond's Ring of Power. This fact allowed him to live with no fear of possible war, a wonderful relief after his past, long ago it may have been. Mirkwood, on the other hand, was anything but peaceful.

"Well?"

Erestor stared at the twins for a long moment. The idea of a possible fight with _anything _journeying to Mirkwood made his blood run cold, and he wondered if his face was pale. But Elrond… Elrond was the closest thing to a friend he had here. Elrond had thought of him when everyone else forgot. He was Fading; might as well do some good before he was gone, he decided.

"…Yes, I will come," he said softly. The twins grinned wildly.

"Wonderful!" Elladan smiled cheerily. "You'll be meeting us, Estel, and Glorfindel at dawn in six days, then. Talk to the cooks and they'll prepare the supplies. Bring a sword!" The twins flashed him quick smiles and darted away, but he barely noticed.

_Glorfindel?_

Erestor had the feeling he'd been tricked.

* * *

**Please R&R!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello! I'd like to point out, before you start, that I would greatly appreciate readers pointing out any out-of-canon actions, places, or things occurring-OC-people, incorrect references, etc. I still get the names of some things confused. It was pointed out to me that Elrond's ring was Vilya, not Nenya-thank you!**

**Disclaimer: Do I really have to do this? I don't own this, Tolkien and JK Rowling own characters and places and things, blah, blah, I make no money off of this… meh.**

* * *

Chapter Three

Glorfindel was not sure if he should be happy, smug, or angry; in the end he chose a combination of the three that rather disturbed his four companions, especially one rather tense quarter-elf.

Glorfindel had not, despite Erestor's fears, said a single word to the advisor when they had met to leave. The group of five had quietly proceeded to the stables, air tense, and taken their horses-Erestor had taken one of the spare horses as he had never had a reason to ride, but Glorfindel had not commented on this, either. By the time the company stopped for lunch and rest Erestor was very unsettled. Valor, but at least when Glorfindel was bothering him he knew what to expect!

Glorfindel seemed finally to come from whatever thoughts had been troubling him. The children of Elrond noticed his glance to Erestor, and they shared looks; now it would start.

"Who are your parents, Erestor? I don't believe you've ever said." Glorfindel smiled tightly as he lounged back against a tree-trunk, biting an apple serenely. His eyes, however, were hard.

"I don't believe I have," Erestor murmured, and fell silent. Glorfindel only had to talk to him to make him uneasy. This wasn't really insulting him-not yet-but Glorfindel only talked to him to trouble him, insult him, or otherwise make his life miserable. Glorfindel knew Erestor never talked of himself, if not why, and so of course delighted in questioning him on every detail of his life.

Erestor continued eating.

"Erestor?"

Erestor set his food down.

Normally, he would tell other's nothing of his past; that would only make them more curious, and he wanted no one digging around his background. But he was fading, after all, and some part of him said leaving Glorfindel confused would at least be some small retribution.

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "Will you not give an answer, then? Is your heritage so shameful or you in such disgrace as to withhold your lineage?" The twins looked at Glorfindel sharply, Estel half-rising, but Erestor only smiled thinly, trying to ignore the stab of pain in his heart; that hit a little too close to home.

"My parents are Mebidir and Elanor, or so they might be called; and I shall say no more on the matter." Rising with a serene smile, if his face seemed a little tight, he then left to see to his horse, Rána, and though the stable help had told him with cheerful smiles it was for her similarity to the Moon also called by that name, for her coat shone a pearly white, he was rather certain it was more for the meaning, _The Wayward._

* * *

He should not have said anything to Glorfindel, he knew, but his tolerance and self-discipline was at an all-time low. He was Fading, he did not care anymore, and it would harm no one now even if he told them all of his past, which surely they would not believe in any case. He sighed, turning his head to crack his neck and relieve it of the stiffness which should _not _be in one of the Firstborn, and with misery in his heart again entered the woods to begin the long process of finding his wayward mare. He really needed to start tying her up.

Behind Erestor he had left three very troubled elves and one concerned _Edain _pondering on the mystery he presented to them. Mebidir? The second name, Elanor, was fine, but the first was more troubling. Erestor had simply translated 'James' the closest that he might in Sindarin, lest he give away his human heritage, but had in his haste failed to remember the meaning of the word or give it much thought-the usurper. And Erestor had as well as said this was not his father's true name.

Aside from this the four could not fail to notice Erestor's sudden openness, if he gave his answers in a less than forward manner, and three of these eyed the fourth companion and wondered if this might be for good or ill.

The next day when he awoke, early as always, he felt the drained feel of his body and grogginess of his mind and knew this would be another bad day. Valar! What would he do if they noticed his lapse of strength? Elves should not be tired, even the most unfit, which Erestor unfortunately was. This, he thought, would only make his weakness all the worse, for if he was to be weaker than an _Edain _his usual strength, lowest surely among all elves, would be terrible now.

He forced himself to rise, smoothly and swiftly, as though he was not weary in the least, and in return for this cruelty to his body black spots popped in front of his eyes… What had Ron called them? The memory came to him, unbidden, for with his weakness of body came a weakness, it seemed, of his mind as well.

_Harry awoke with a yell from his spot on the ground. Ron, Hermione, and Kingsley leapt up as well, scrambled more like, wands whipping out from under their cloaks. They trained their wands in his direction, as though expecting him to be attacked. They relaxed as they noticed it were only a nightmare, eyes full of pity._

"_Alright, Harry?" Asked Kingsley's deep voice. Flushing despite himself Harry stood quickly, only to stumble back as his head swam._

"_Fuzzies?" asked Ron. Harry stared blankly at him as the spots disappeared._

"_Huh?"_

"_Black dots." He waved a hand vaguely. "Mum calls em that, anyway…"_

"_Er, yeah…"_

_There was a small pause, and then Harry slowly turned and went back to his spot on the ground. The other's followed his example. This was nothing new, after all. No cause for worry._

The 'fuzzies' nearly covered his vision, and for a moment he wondered if he would faint, but then they slowly cleared, and despite the temporary blindness he walked forward toward the fire and Estel. He wondered if the human could hear the beating of his heart.

The blackness was all but gone as he sat, and he nodded to Estel cordially, a few 'fuzzies' resurrecting as he did so.

He had a feeling this would not be a pleasant day.

* * *

A short while later they were ready all to depart; but while he may have feigned alertness Erestor wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep again. But he could not, nor could he let his companions see any indication of his weariness. Elves were not supposed to get tired this easily.

Rána and he were at the end of the group as they traveled, and so now Erestor allowed himself to slump against his horse, tired. He kept an eye on those in front of him in case they should look back, but it was becoming more and more difficult as time wore on. His eyes stung and fluttered, and he would occasionally jerk his head in an effort to remain awake. Once he allowed his eyes to close, too tired to notice or care, and dozed for a few minutes before coming back enough to scratch his arm roughly. The sting helped wake him, and he sat rigidly straight then, fighting off sleep and wondering how long he could hide this.

He realized, then, that the others had been talking, though he could not hear what they said; his hearing seemed to have diminished as well. He realized he was lagging a little and nudged Rána to go a little quicker. He could hear a little, now-they were just discussing battle plans, from what he heard. They didn't seem to notice his tiredness. He forced himself to relax. They didn't, after all, have any reason to suspect anything.

"Orcs, do you think?" Elrohir asked. Glorfindel frowned as he eyed his surroundings.

"Could be some traveling men, I suppose, or dwarves, but I cannot imagine either ripping apart a deer in such a manner, and wolves would leave more obvious tracks. Yes, definitely orcs."

They had passed the rather mutilated carcass of a deer, invoking grimaces of horror from the four. But it seemed any tracks had been cleared by whatever had done the deed. Some ruffian Men might do such a thing, he supposed, but Elrohir couldn't think why.

"Has Erestor noticed?" asked Elladan. Glorfindel's eye twitched, but his question was more directed at his brother's, not daring to ask the Balrog-slayer about Erestor.

"I do not think so." Estel glanced back at Erestor. He was sitting rim-rod straight on his horse and staring straight ahead, eyes glassy. Estel would think him asleep were it not for his fingers, playing with the mane on Rána absently. "Does he even have a sword?"

"Yes, _Ada _said he was bringing one. But I imagine he hasn't had much experience fighting. We'll need to be careful with orcs about."

Elrohir shifted on his horse. "We _are _here for a reason, you know- I believe the point of warriors coming is to protect the representative."

"Which, brother, would include _telling _him of the orcs. I imagine it will go worse for us if he is completely surprised if they attack."

"I doubt there are that many of them," Glorfindel put in. "Orcs would likely leave more obvious signs. Likely just a few loners-easily dealt with."

"Still, he really should be told." Elrohir glanced back at Erestor again.

"No need to worry him now," Elladan pointed out. "We will tell him at the midday meal, then?"

Glorfindel nodded. "That should be fine."

* * *

When Glorfindel first saw the signs of an orc nearby he was, naturally, concerned. But as the discussion that ensued between the four warriors continued and Erestor was brought up a flash of loathing boiled through him. Erestor! Why would he even want to protect the elf? Would it not be so much easier, then, to get rid of that dark presence, allow him to be attacked-

No! How could he think of such a thing? Glorfindel felt horror and shame well up inside of him. Erestor was an elf, not an orc! He had no more proof than an uneasy feeling and a single memory with snakes. For all he knew Erestor _could_ have been simply mimicking the hisses of the reptile. And even if he wasn't, that was no cause to sentence him to death! Who was he to even consider such a thing? This was murder! He felt weak with shock and horror at his own thoughts. He forced himself to listen to the twins and Estel, trying to forget his treacherous wonderings.

"Which, brother, would include _telling _him of the orcs. I imagine it will go worse for us if he is completely surprised if they attack." Elladan was saying.

"I doubt there are that many of them," Glorfindel put in. "Orcs would likely leave more obvious signs. Likely just a few loners-easily dealt with."

"Still, he really should be told." Elrohir glanced back at Erestor again.

"No need to worry him now," Elladan pointed out. "We will tell him at the midday meal, then?"

Glorfindel nodded distractedly, trying to banish the thoughts from his mind still. "That should be fine."

* * *

Erestor was, by the time they stopped at midday to eat, now fully awake. He did not feel he had so much energy as an elf should, but he felt-physically-better. But now that his thoughts had been turned away from worry over his companions discovering his secret he found himself feeling melancholy once again. His whole body was weighted down with sadness, and the dull numbness that often accompanied his misery settled over his mind.

He _was _alone, as much alone as anyone could be; he contemplated this as he sat down several feet from his companions, too down to take note of their swift glances.

He had entered this world leaving friends behind, and in his pain his heart held no room for new ones. For a few years he had wondered the Wilderness, learning the ways and languages of this strange land, only going to small villages when need required. He carried only three things with him, all of which lay with him now, all of which had lain unused but undamaged for many centuries. His wand, his invisibility cloak, and the sword of Gryffindor. These the Valar had allowed him to take to help him in the new world, along with a few coins. Those years had been lonely, but when he returned to civilization he had felt it was even worse. The other elves had just finished a war of their own, yet he felt no sense of companionship for them-if anything he felt only more ostracized. When Elrond had approached him with the offer of Advisor, noticing long ago his impartiality and quick tongue, he had been only too happy to oblige and shut himself away from the world. And so he had allowed his grief to bloom and flower for over two thousand years.

Despairing, he picked at his food morosely/. Two thousand years! And more like to three thousand, if he was too be honest. Centuries of dull and mind-numbing repetitiveness, interlaced with steadily increasing bouts of melancholy due to his life and memories, and then when Glorfindel came life was a constant agony… He _wanted _to get it over with.

"Erestor?" Erestor started, looking up quickly. Elrohir stood in front of him. The other three watched quietly not far away. "We believe we saw some signs of orc behind us, a few hours ago." A shiver went through Erestor at the thought of fighting, blood, death… Elrohir pretended not to notice. "Be wary!"

"Thank you, Elrohir." He managed. Elrohir hesitated, eyes flickering to the side at his twin.

"Do you have a sword?"

"Aye."

"A _good _sword? One which will not break?" Elrohir pressed. "It would be best if you don't have to fight, but you must be prepared…"

"Yes, it is a good sword." It has certainly drunk worse blood than orc, Erestor thought, and then inwardly shuddered as the images of inferi and cloaked wizards flew through his head.

There was a small pause.

"…I should feel better, Erestor, if I could make my own evaluation…" Elrohir was not so sure Erestor had ever wielded a sword; how would he be able to tell if one was sturdy or not? If it wasn't they needed to know.

Erestor, sensing this and unable to fault Elrohir or the others, stifled a sigh and stood. He beckoned to Rána, and then moved the pack to reach for the wrapped sword hidden behind frowned; leaving the sword with a horse was in itself the sign of an inexperienced fighter.

"You really should keep your sword on your person."

"I have other methods of defending myself." He thought of the slim piece of wood hidden in his sleeve. He ignored the truthful voice in his head muttering that he didn't really care about surviving an attack anyway.

"Even against orcs?" Elrohir asked skeptically.

Erestor's thoughts now turned to a few stray orcs he had encountered during his years in the Wild. "I _have _fought orcs before, young though I might be." He took the sheath away now, having finally worked it from the bindings, and Elrohir made a mental note to ask him just how old-or young-he was someday.

Slowly, carefully, Erestor unsheathed his sword.

He could almost feel Elrohir's shock as he saw the object. He tossed the sword in the air, catching it by the blade as it fell. He offered it to Elrohir hilt first, and the elf took it, trying not to look too amazed. Glorfindel, Elladan, and Estel rose to get a better look.

The elegant sword _was _very impressive. The large egg-sized ruby alone on the hilt would make it so, but even aside from the carvings and gems and beauty of the deadly weapon it was also crafted skillfully with the intent that it be used. It was magic, of course-it could withstand all the tests of time, the reason Erestor still had it. Elrohir, stunned at the awesome weapon, started to hand it back-then he paused.

"…Is that writing?"

Erestor glanced at the name in scripted in the sword. It would, he mused, be odd writing to anyone of Middle-Earth. Before thinking, he answered, "Yes."

There was a heavy, tense pause, and something occurred to Erestor then.

His hand.

His hand, scarred still from the events of his fifth year, held at least a few letters in common with the name on his sword. The others, it seemed, had realized it as well.

Elrohir slowly handed the sword back to Erestor, not meeting his eyes.

"It will do," he muttered.

* * *

**A/N: The flashback really has no relevance to the story except to emphasize that he still has bad memories of his time as a human. Elf memories, remember, are exceptional.**

**And, as always, please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello. Before anything else I'd like to thank Selador and Mikito for pointing out some mistakes in the last chapter. If anyone notices any errors in this chapter please feel free to point them out. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer; I make no money off of this work. I own none of the characters/places/etc. **

* * *

Chapter Four

At the prodding of an awkward Elladan, Erestor had reluctantly clad himself with the sword of Gryffindor. It seemed rather pointless to him. He did, after all, have his magic.

They were riding more cautiously, and unfortunately for him the others had decided he could not defend himself and he now rode in the middle of the group instead of trailing behind them. He knew it was their job, of course-that was the reason warriors needed to come, after all. But it annoyed him nonetheless, and furthermore it could lead to trouble if he had any more relapses with his failing strength. He felt a little better now, approaching elf-strength, but certainly not up to his usual standards. The effects of his fading were lasting longer and longer now.

Despite the worry of his companions, however, they neither saw nor heard a hint of any orc that day. But if anything they looked even more uneasy when night fell. Erestor wondered why for a moment-surely any orcs must be far away by now. Elven hearing was superb. They would long ago have heard if any orc was near. A moment later he berated himself. Orcs, of course, would only attack at night, for they could not brave the sun, and orc ambushes at night could startle even elves, if they were not wary.

_Tis no wonder they think they must protect me if I cannot remember even that, _he thought. _Would that I was not Fading! _He was not completely sure he would remember even then, though; he hadn't fought in a long time.

After eating a small meal they lay down to sleep, Erestor taking note of but ignoring the positions of the others grouped around as Elrohir went to take watch. Away from thoughts of travel and orcs the small lingering sadness that stayed in his chest blossomed, and with a heavy heart he closed his eyes. Sleep took him.

* * *

"Glorfindel!"

Glorfindel sprang up in an instant from his light sleep, unsheathing his sword. The sound of metal-against-metal woke Elladan, who jumped to his feet as well. Estel remained sleeping, oblivious, but as Glorfindel moved to wake him Elrohir waved his hand to stop.

"No, no, there are no enemies!"

Glorfindel paused, and he and Elladan exchanged skeptical looks. Glorfindel sheathed his sword, and Estel stirred a little now in his sleep, mumbled something, and turned over.

"What's wrong?" asked Elladan, baffled.

"Erestor!"

Glorfindel twitched at the name, but forced his anger down. "What of him?"

"His _eyes_!"

Elladan rolled his own impatiently. "Brother, really, what do you-"

He stared.

Erestor, weary after the taxing day, had forgotten one part of the Fading process he had failed to hide. Only ill elves slept with their eyes closed, and as elves did not actually become ill of normal means it was not really illness at all.

"Poison!" Glorfindel exclaimed. Estel jumped and raised his head, blinking.

"How would he become poisoned?" Elladan was bewildered.

"Poison?" asked Estel, lost.

"Perhaps a slow-acting poison?"

"From Imladris, Glorfindel? I can think of no other place he would be exposed to any other than us, and try as I might I can not imagine any of Rivendell poisoning Elrond's chief advisor, whatever the reason."

"Erestor's been poisoned?"

"Does he have any wounds we do not know of, maybe?" Asked Elrohir.

"Again, from where?" Glorfindel shook his head. "An infected papercut? Really, something must have happened very recently, but…" Oh, this was all very confusing. "We have been the only ones around here, to my knowledge…"

Estel decided that they were indeed talking about Erestor. "Unless one of us have suddenly taken a dislike to the advisor, then, he _can't _be poisoned." He stopped.

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Anyway…" Estel cleared his throat. "Do elves have allergies to anything? I imagine Erestor hasn't been outside much, and he is unused to traveling food. He may have eaten something that disagreed with him, or it could just be normal flower allergies."

"No, no," Elrohir said impatiently. "Elves aren't allergic to anything. And if nothing else our talking should have awakened him by now, I would like to point out. Obviously this is serious for so deep a sleep."

"Did an orc-dart hit him without our knowledge?" Elladan wondered.

"Don't be silly," Glorfindel told him. "We would have heard an orc.

"Orcs have ambushed elves before. We are not invincible."

"I imagine Erestor would have noticed the dart, then."

"Darts can be small."

"Why would an orc fill a dart with such a weak poison? Why not something which could kill him quickly?"

"Perhaps it does for men, but we do not fall easily to poison."

"They obviously knew we were elves…"

Estel cleared his throat pointedly, and the debating elves paused.

"Why don't we just ask him in the morning?"

A pause.

"…Good night, Estel." Elrohir told him.

Estel shook his head as the others moved to their own spots. Elves!

* * *

Elladan, at the end of his watch, went to awaken the others. They woke easily enough, having only a troubled sleep after seeing Erestor with open eyes, but as he went to wake the advisor he stopped and stared incredulously.

"What?" Asked Elrohir, noticing.

"His eyes are open again." He sounded bemused.

The others came around to look, peering at him with confusion.

"Maybe he wasn't poisoned?" Estel asked skeptically.

"Why would he sleep with closed eyes, then?"

"Well, even elves sleep with closed eyes when they're _really _tired, do they not? He is not used to travel, of any sort. Perhaps he just needed a deeper sleep than you three to recover, and now has rested enough to sleep normally." It seemed logical, but Estel was uneasy-he felt certain in his heart this was not the reason. But the elves had been reluctant to believe any of their number were poisoned, and cheered a little by the thought that he wasn't. Elladan bent to wake him as the others went to see to their bags, and they thought of it no more.

* * *

Nothing of importance occurred on the fourth night, and by the fifth Erestor was sure they were only being paranoid. He was scheduled for last watch that night, no doubt because, with the sun rising soon, the orcs were unlikely to attack. The other were leery of the scholar's fighting skills, not that he could blame them for that. He had entertained idea of asking them to spar, to prepare for possible battles, but that would likely only make it worse. He was not in the best of shape, and Erestor had not fought for a long time. Anyway, if he _did _manage to beat any of them by some miracle the dangers of accidentally killing one of them were just too high. For all of the virtues of elves he had a hard time believing they could survive basilisk venom.

A twig snapped.

He casually leaned against a tree trunk, hand drifting down to his sword hilt. Erestor didn't much care of his own life, but that was no reason to let the twin sons and foster-son of Elrond to be killed or captured. Glorfindel, on the other hand… Well, that was debatable.

Another twig snapped.

His hand closed over the sword hilt, elf-eyes gleaming in the darkness, skin glowing too dully for a healthy elf. It could be just a rabbit, but…

Wait…

The stench of something rotten assailed his senses, briefly, before it vanished. Erestor's eyes widened.

"Elrohir! Elladan! Estel! Glorfindel!" he hissed.

The elves sprung up from their sleeps, and Elladan kicked at Estel to rouse him. Erestor carefully withdrew his sword so as not to make any noise. The others did not need to question him. Fully alert, Estel glanced around pointedly. Erestor mutely nodded toward the area where he had heard the twigs snap. He couldn't speak again if he had tried. _Not another battle, _he pleaded silently. _Valar, no…_

Something hit him from behind, and through the pain in his skull he whirled, sword shooting out. He only caught the orc a glanced blow, leaving just a thin, shallow cut on the arm, but poison had its uses. The orc gave an unearthly shriek as more burst into sight.

They weren't just coming from one direction, they were _everywhere_!

He managed to knock aside the blade of an orc, jabbing it hard enough to draw blood. This orc, too, gave a screech of its own just as the first had as it fell and writhed on the ground. Another orc replaced this one.

Erestor stepped back as the orc's scimitar slashed out, meeting air. Two more orcs came up from his right, and as he dodged and hit aside their blows he managed to fall the first orc. Two more seemed to come from nowhere to take its spot. Suddenly he realized what they were doing.

_They're drawing me away! _He thought with terror. Erestor glanced to the others desperately, now seeming very far away. As though sensing his glance Estel looked up, and his eyes widened. He had forgotten about Erestor in the heat of the fight.

"Glorfindel!" he shouted.

The balrog-slayer looked at him, effortlessly killed the stunned orc he had been fighting. More eagerly rushed the spot, all wanting to be the one to fall the legendary elf.

"What?" Estel seemed to be doing fine, and the twins were having no trouble…

Oh.

Swearing creatively, he slashed aside two orcs in front of him, and all bitterness toward Erestor disappeared in that instant. He was an elf of Imladris, damn it, strange or not! He would _not _be dying on Glorfindel's watch!

But he was too late; even as he fought, he saw Erestor fall, and half a dozen orcs, victorious, grabbed the prize and ran.

* * *

When Erestor awoke it was to a throbbing pang in his head, worse than any hang over he'd ever felt. He automatically tried to reach up to grab his head, but couldn't; his hands were bound.

_What…?_

He remembered, suddenly, the events of the attack, and groaned aloud with despair. Not a good idea.

"E's awake!"

Whoops.

A kick to the side made him gasp and double over, or as much as he could, and his eyes snapped open. He closed them quickly at the sudden light.

"Well, what yer waiting for?" an ugly voice growled. "Go get Udlux, idjit!"

There was the sound of feet stomping, then silence.

Erestor slowly opened his eyes again.

As he absorbed his surroundings, one thing was abundantly clear; he was in trouble.

His hands were bound behind his back, his legs and feet tied painfully tight. How could he had let this happen? _Why _had he gone for his sword first? He had known he wasn't great with a sword, not like this, certainly, when he was fading. Why hadn't he gone for his wand-

His wand!

He twitched his arm as much as he could, but with sickening dismay could no longer feel the ever-present holly stick in his sleeve. His relief was enormous as he saw it not a foot away. It must have fallen when he was bound. But how to get to it? The orcs would just leave it behind.

What does it matter? He wondered. He would die soon anyway, orcs or no. Perhaps it was better like this, leaving in a way that the others could understand, quickly… But could he let the orcs win? No, he realized, he couldn't. He would die, but not like this. He would _not _leave this world bound like a turkey.

He looked around. He appeared to be in a tent of some sort, if a crude one. He remembered the comment one orc outside had made. He needed to hurry.

Straining, he was able to bend over enough to take the tip of the wand lightly with his teeth, careful not to break the wood. His head spun, and his grip was too loose, for the wand dropped. It fell four more times before, now desperate, he managed to pick it up firmly. Erestor craned his neck, twisted his head, and with difficulty managed to put the wand into his collar. He pushed it down as much as he could, then wriggled to let it fall and settle onto his arm. He leant back when the arduous task was finished, relieved. And not a moment too soon.

The tent flap opened, and in stepped the most hideous orc Erestor had ever seen.

* * *

Elrond read over the paper he held one last time, nodded to himself, then left his study. He turned left automatically, paused, and then turned around. Erestor isn't here, he reminded himself. It was an alien thought. Erestor was _always _there.

Erestor! What an odd elf. But Elrond knew there was more to him then met the eye. He had felt… Well, he didn't know quite what, but he had felt _something _when he had first met his chief advisor. Erestor was meant for something great, as odd as such a thing seemed. Quiet, introverted Erestor? Erestor, the elf who never left Rivendell? But Elrond had learned to trust his instincts. He had the Sight, after all. It had been a long time, though, and Erestor had shown no signs of being at all extraordinary, except perhaps that he managed to make a terrible enemy in the amiable Glorfindel. Oh, well. He was sure things would work out with those two eventually. Elrond shook himself from his thoughts. He really needed to get those papers to one of his advisors.

* * *

Glorfindel let out a terrifying, feral snarl as he cut down the last orc. The others were fleeing.

Not bothering to give chase, he turned to the children of Elrond with concern, trying to push the memory of Erestor falling to the ground from his head. First he needed to assess the situation.

"Elrohir?"

The younger twin blinked up at him blearily, and Glorfindel fought down his dismay. Elladan looked at his twin with concern.

"An orc got him, a bad cut, all along the back-"

Estel eased off his brother's shirt, causing Elrohir to hiss and jerk away. Estel grimaced. A clean enough cut, but long. Elrohir would have trouble walking for awhile. Or riding, for that matter. Speaking of which…

"Where are the horses?"

Elladan started, then looked around, swearing under his breath. "Ran."

Estel sighed with frustration as he retrieved his herb-pouch. "What do we do? Erestor…"

"We go after him, of course," Glorfindel said sharply.

Elladan nodded worriedly. "But with Elrohir…" Elrohir grimaced but said nothing.

"Go," Estel told them without looking up. Glorfindel blinked.

"What?"

"Go," he repeated. He stopped his ministrations to look at them. "Just you two-Elrohir's hurt, and someone needs to be with him, and I'm too slow, anyway."

Glorfindel was surprised at the suggestion. Splitting up? Was that safe? But Glorfindel could see his point.

"Quickly, now!" Estel bid. He turned back to his wounded brother. "They have a head start of over an hour, likely more, and our mounts have deserted us; for all the speed of elves I fear even you shall not catch the orcs on foot."

Glorfindel stared a moment longer, then abruptly nodded. He swiped the flat of his blade against his tunic, black orc-blood staining it. "Come, Elladan-we have orcs to hunt!"

* * *

Erestor glared at the twisted creature of Sauron, trying to look the boldness he was unable to feel. The orc was not phased, clearly having seen far more intimidating things in his life than a bound, injured elf.

"What are four elves doing wandering around our lands, eh?"

_Their _lands? Erestor was fairly certain no orcs lived so close to Rivendell, but with the shadow growing… "What are orcs doing so far from the mountains, daring to attack elves?"

"_Daring__?**" **_And the orc threw back his head and laughed. "Daring, you say! Not so daring if it works, now is it? We have one elf-toy, now, and one elf to answer some of our questions." Answer their questions? These orcs had obviously never dealt with elves before.

_Oh well. I'm weaker then they would expect an elf to be. Their torture will kill me soon-it won't last long. _The thought did not trouble him much.

The orc drew out the sword of Gryffindor. "What poison is this, elf?" he demanded.

_That _was what they wanted to know. Hah! There weren't any basilisks on Middle Earth. Amused for the first time in awhile, he hid a smile. It would do no harm to the orc to tell him. If anything it would only delay them as they fruitlessly searched for a poison unknown to this world. Pleased with the idea, he told the orc. "My sword has been dipped in basilisk poison, and is now coated with it for eternity."

"Basilisk?" The orc eyed him suspiciously for a moment, as though expecting a lie. But he had answered quickly and smoothly. "What is that?"

"Why would I tell you?" Erestor scoffed. He wondered if basilisk _could _be born here. They were born from chicken eggs, right? He was fairly certain no one on Middle Earth would try to hatch a chicken egg under a toad. Come to think of it, why had the wizards? Hmm…

The orc trailed the sword down Erestor's leg. In one quick motion he cut through the bottom of the fabric, and the sword tip hovered over his skin. "Want to see what this poison does to elves?"

"I have a feeling I'm going to find out." Erestor returned to the mild, patient tone he acquired when attending council. He was correct. The orc prodded the skin, and a bit of blood welled up, sizzling and smoking and hissing. The orc looked surprised at that-Erestor could not think of any poison that smoked. But a moment later it stopped. Udlux looked disappointed.

"That it?" He was more speaking to himself than Erestor, but he answered anyway.

"Why don't you try it with an orc?" He suggested innocently. "Elves are pretty resistant to most poisons."

Udlux glared at him a moment, then stuck his head out the tent and called for one of the orcs to come. Erestor rolled his orcs. Orcs were such selfish creatures.

A smaller orc came in. "What?" he grunted.

"Stand still," Udlux ordered. The orc only had time to blink before Udlux had whipped out the sword and pricked his skin.

The orc screamed.

In the battle, Erestor had had no time to see the orcs react to the poison, but now could not help but notice how painful it seemed. The orc continued shrieking, convulsing on the ground, as his struggles grew gradually weaker. Within a minute it had died.

Far from remorseful, Udlux looked fascinated. He looked at the sword with new appreciation, then paused, as though realizing something.

"Hey! You killed Jukil!"

Erestor grimaced. And _how _had they managed to capture him?

"Blasted elf!" Udlux snarled. He looked about to say something else, than paused. A weird expression passed over his face, and he was silent for a moment, scrutinizing Erestor carefully. He sat still. What?

Suddenly a grin broke out on the orcs face. "You're fading!"

Well, so much for a quick death. Oh well.

How did the orc notice so quickly?

"Only reason you could be such a bad fighter," Udlux decided. Actually, he was likely a poor fighter compared to _any _other elf, but he wasn't about to argue the point. "And you don't have that thrice-damned _glow._" Well, that reason made a little more sense. And if nothing else his expression had answered the orc for him. Udlux abruptly grabbed his arm and dragged him from the tent. He bit down hard on his lips, drawing blood, as he fought to cry out. Erestor was bruised badly.

Udlux tossed Erestor into the midst of a group of orcs-and half on a fire.

Erestor couldn't stop the scream this time.

Udlux, snickering, loped forward leisurely and plucked him from the fire. He roughly smacked the fire off Erestor, who nearly fell unconscious again. The fire had been mercifully small, but Valar, that _hurt!_

"Elf here is fading!" He announced gleefully. Grotesque grins crossed the faces of the orcs. "No point in killing him then, ey? But I thinks we have some sport!"

Erestor had a feeling this wouldn't go well.

The orcs roared with delight, and several jumped up with blood-lust in their eyes, taking out knives. Erestor's stomach rolled.

Uglux took out a small knife, resting it against Erestor's cheek. "Any ideas?"

"Boil 'im in oil!"

"Cut off 'is feet!"

"Take out 'is eyes!"

"Feed him 'is own ears!" An orc howled.

"Make him drink 'is own blood!"

"Whip!"

"More fire!"

Erestor's face was white with the suggestions of the orcs. Feeling the knife against his cheek, he acted before he could even think about it-he jerked his head back and then slammed his head against the knife.

* * *

"We're losing the trail!" Elladan wailed.

Glorfindel bent over the ground anxiously. He carefully checked the ground and foliage before taking even a single step. But Elladan was right-they had lost the trail. Giving up, he sighed.

"We must stop," he said heavily. "We cannot risk losing the trail in the dark. We will resume the search as soon as the sun rises."

* * *

Erestor saw stars.

"No, no, no!" The orcs roared with laughter at his attempt. His face had only hit the flat of the blade, Udlux having turned it aside at the last moment.

"Not getting away so easy, elf!" he hooted. He seemed very pleased with this turn of events. To him it proved just how afraid the elf was. "Now, what were some of those suggestions… ah, yes." He grinned cruelly, ignoring the yelled tips of the other orcs. "We don't want our sport to end too soon, eh, boys?" This halted most of the pointers, and the orcs waited expectantly.

"We'll start ya with something easy, elf." Udlux told him. _Start?_ He turned to a nearby underling. "Get me some nice long sticks. Let's roast him!"

* * *

"Aragorn? Elrohir?"

The two started at the voice, turning in shock. "Mithrandir!"

"Indeed." He frowned. "Are you alright? Is Elladan not with you?" Elladan and Elrohir were rarely separated.

"He's with Glorfindel," Estel said grimly. "Elladan is injured. They are pursuing orcs-Erestor has been captured."

"Erestor? But… Ah!" His eyes glittered. "Now _that _expains a few things. Elrond was right, it seems."

"_Ada? _What does he-hey!" Estel's eyes widened. "Is that Rána you ride?"

"Who?" It was Mithrandir's turn to be puzzled. "Oh! The horse, yes, found her wandering a little ways away."

"She is Erestor's."

"Indeed?" He seemed amused. "Well, perhaps she will lend me aid in this search then. I must be going, and quickly, if my suspicion is correct. And I really do need to hurry. I have a few dwarfs and a hobbit quite anxiously awaiting my return, I believe. I do hope this doesn't take too long. Come, Rána!" He turned the white mare into the forest, singing lightly under his breath.

"_The Road Goes Ever On and On…"_

Estel shook his head, amused despite himself. "Wizards!"

* * *

Erestor panted, breathing in air in huge gulps. His skin was on fire, or so it seemed. Hot sweat trickled down his forehead, and everywhere else, too. The orcs had finally tired or roasting him. Erestor was relieved. Nothing could be worse than that!

"Had enough, elf?" Erestor was too exhausted to respond and merely took more gulps of air. Cool, sweet air! "Didn't think so! Let's go back to the classics now…" He grinned wolfishly. "Izékd? Bring me the whip!"

* * *

Mithrandir's frown deepened as he rode. Something was wrong. He had felt a very powerful magical source, not an object or spell but person; it was foreign, and strong, else he would not have felt it. The presence had faded quickly, but now he was close enough to feel it again. But it was weaker-much weaker.

Something was wrong.

* * *

Erestor screamed, back arching as the whip slashed his back again. His vision was foggy, and all he could feel was pain, pain, pain… Dots swirled in front of his eyes, and he was barely aware of the sudden stop of the whip, the orc's jeers turning to screams, the thunderous beat of many horse-hooves. But he was aware of a shadow leaning over him, and a wisp of blond hair as a face peered into his own. Fear came to him again.

"Glorfindel?" he asked weakly. The shadow moved to pick him up, and Erestor fainted.

* * *

**A/N: Like it? Please Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry for taking so long! Again. Anyway, I'd like to thank DreamOfStories, who is now beta reader for this story and pointed out many flaws I would never have noticed. Thanks!**

**It is also thanks to her that I can give a rough time for this story- this takes place before year 3000 and after 2980. You can use you imagination for the specifics. ;)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of The Rings, Harry Potter, places, people....**

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Chapter Five

* * *

Elrond Peredhil, Lord of Imladris, was having a casual chat with a passing servant when he froze, eyes going glassy.

"…and - Lord Elrond?" The servant frowned at his lord, disconcerted. As Elrond remained stationary, realization came to him. His face drained of color.

"Lord Elrond!" The servant all but cried. Panicking, he turned to run for one of the lord's sons - no, they were gone - Glorfindel… - No, he was gone… Erestor! But even Erestor had left! Who could he go to? His eyes darted along the hallway, terrified, and the poor servant nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand rested on his shoulder.

"Please go ask General Celkwin to prepare ten of our warriors to set out," Lord Elrond said quite calmly. The taut features, however, betrayed his mood, telling of his clear anxiety. The white servant nodded jerkily before fleeing down the hallway. Elrond turned and headed to the stables.

* * *

When Erestor came to, he lay still for a moment, body weighed down with exhaustion, head pounding. Was this another part of fading, he wondered? But everything else hurt, too… Fire seemed to flare in front of his closed eyes and he bolted upright, alert in an instant. He regretted this immediately, biting back a cry. He took a slow, deep breath, waiting for the pain to ebb a little. When it did he looked around carefully.

He seemed to be in a tent, again, which did not sit well with him after the last encounter. This time, however, he was not bound, which in itself said something. The foul stink that accompanied orcs was also missing, easing his worries slightly. But where was he then?

First things first, Erestor decided. He moved to take out his wand, then stopped, dismayed. His clothes were in rags; his wand had fallen out!

Horrified, he glanced around, panicked, as though expecting to find it fallen near him. No such luck.

He forced himself to put his attention toward breathing again. Erestor closed his eyes. He could think more about that later. Right now he needed to worry about the immediate situation. Where was he? What had happened to him, to the orcs? He could hear, just barely, an occasional murmur of voices outside the tent, but nothing definite. Oh, why did his elf-hearing have to fail him now? Was he still with the orcs? He dared not stick his head out the tent to find out; they would have to come to him.

He was still planning when he became aware of footsteps approaching.

Hastily, Erestor lay back down, ignoring the pain, forcing his muscles to relax and his breathing to even. He let his gaze slide out of focus in imitation of the elven sleep, which should at least allow him a blurry image of his captors.

"Oh, you're awake!"

Erestor continued breathing, not daring to let his eyes flicker to the sound of the voice. Rough, too rough to be an elf, but nothing like an orc, and a dwarf's voice was, from what he had heard, gruffer. Humans. He had been taken by humans.

"Elf?" The man's voice was puzzled now, unsure.

"Oh, Valar!" A second blur joined the first, this one large as it crouched in front of him. "Is he… no, he's breathing…"

"Does he sleep?" the first man was still bewildered.

"It… appears so… Hm, I've heard tales that elves sleep with their eyes open, but I never would have thought them true."

"His eyes were closed before…"

_Closed?_

"Well, he wasn't really _sleeping, _he was unconscious. "

"True…" The man sighed. "Do you think he'll ever wake, Matthias?"

The second man, Matthias, apparently, sighed. "Well, he's not dead yet, is he?" He replied soberly. The blur moved away, turning, and for a moment Erestor allowed his gaze to go back into focus. He saw the large men as they left the tent, or their backs, at least. Large, huge compared to the slight elf, and fair-haired, though that told him little. He listened as their footsteps faded. The murmuring voices outside rose to a crescendo, but he could still not pick out any words. Sighing and resigned to this, he eased himself into a sitting position again, staring at the tent opening, worry creasing his brow.

What now?

* * *

Glorfindel was aware of little as he sprinted forward, not even Elladan running behind him. Guilt gnawed at him, and he pushed himself to run harder, faster. An image of Erestor's face at the dinner floated before him - Valar, it seemed so long ago! - and he recalled with a cold feeling in his stomach the advisor's face, eyes glimmering with tears, emphasized in the memory, and it seemed to Glorfindel now that he could certainly not have been so callous and cruel as to ignore that - right? Erestor's voice came to his mind, his memory and self-doubts making him hear the voice tremble, though it had been firm in reality. Glorfindel closed his eyes briefly, a distressed, heart-wrenching voice echoing in his ears…

'_Are you happy with yourself?_'

* * *

The next time he heard approaching footsteps, which was not long after the first time, Erestor did not bother pretending to sleep - there didn't seem to be much he could do, but feigning sleep would help no one.

The tent flap opened and Erestor eased himself up again.

"You are awake!"

There was a lull in the talk outside, and more footsteps approached, now loud and quick. Another head peaked in. "Ah! Hello, elf!" The man's voice was relieved-Erestor thought he recognized the voice as belonging to Matthias. "We began to fear you would never awake!"

Erestor offered the man a wary smile. The two were watching him with a sort of awe - he imagined they had not seen elves before. "Greetings, good sirs - may I ask where I might be, and how I have come to be here?" he asked stiffly.

"We might ask the same of you!" The man exclaimed. "We are in the outskirts of Rohan."

_Rohan?_

Erestor had seen enough of the maps of Middle Earth to know that he shouldn't be in Rohan, But, then, the orcs had likely took him a good way, and if these men - presumably Rohirrim themselves - had taken him farther…

"How long have I been unconscious?" He wondered aloud.

"About a day." Erestor grimaced. "We heard you in the orc-camp when returning to Rohan. We were, actually, looking for the elves of Rivendell, though I must say this was not how I expected to meet my first elf! I am Matthias, and lead these riders; my friend here is Sedge, who has healed you."

"My thanks to you both, then." Erestor smiled tiredly, and, seeing no harm in it added, "I am Erestor of Rivendell, Chief Advisor to Lord Elrond."  
Their eyes widened a little.

"Advisor to Lord Elrond! So we did not search in vain, it seems. Were we close to Rivendell?"

Erestor considered this, mentally seeing a map in his head. "No. I and the others were traveling to Mirkwood, and nearly a week into our journey." The two looked a little disappointed, but now also curious.

"Others?" asked Sedge.

"…We were… separated in the orc attack. I am certain they are fine; they are all of them skilled warriors, unlike myself…"

* * *

Aragorn grimaced as he checked Elrohir's wounds yet again. He could walk now without too much strain, he decided - blessed indeed was the healing of elves! - but they could not move quickly - certainly not quick enough to catch up to their companions.

"What now?" his voice was frustrated, and Elrohir smiled at him sadly, and that great seriousness even the most merry of elves seemed to acquire at times was on his face.

"We can do nothing but wait."

* * *

Glorfindel was admittedly not paying much attention to his surroundings, but even in his brooding mood could not fail to hear the thunder of hooves coming up behind him. He skidded to a halt, and Elladan behind him stopped as well, puzzled. It took a moment, and then the younger elf heard the sound as well. His eyes widened. Without a word, they both leapt onto a nearby tree, scaling it quickly, and settled themselves within the branches. They did not have to wait long.

A grey-cloaked rider on a white horse was riding toward them, apparently in a hurry. Glorfindel's eyes widened as he saw the rider's face and the long wooden staff in his hand.

"Mithrandir!"

The horse slowed as it approached the tree, the rider looking unsurprised. "Glorfindel, Elladan. Now, what are you doing up there? Are you not searching for our missing advisor?

Glorfindel didn't bother asking how the wizard knew of Erestor, instead just leaping down from the tree. Elladan followed. Mithrandir was here! Surely he could help them!

"Mithrandir-"

"Yes, I can help you - or, to be more precise, Rána here can." He smiled fondly at the white horse, and Glorfindel realized with a start that it was indeed Erestor's own. "She will lead us to him."

* * *

"Will you not join us for breakfast, Master Elf?" asked Sedge. "It seems very dull indeed to sit in a tent all day."

Erestor shrugged a little and stood.

After the necessary introductions and explanations, Erestor had closed up again, brooding. He was not the most pleasant or social of elves around his own kind, much less with total strangers, though he hoped these humans did not base their opinions of the elf-race entirely on himself. That, Erestor thought, would reflect poorly on them indeed.

The tent, Erestor noted, was set a little apart from the others, which explained why he could not hear the voices of the riders. But they were not far, and he saw clearly the awe on their faces as they beheld one of the Firstborn walking among them.

Erestor did not much like the attention, ducking his head and avoiding the wide-eyes of the horsemen. Sedge gave them a stern look, bringing Erestor to a man giving out rations. The man hastily gave Erestor his food, and Erestor murmured a quiet "_Hannon Le" _before he could stop himself. The intensity of the stares grew, and with a faint blush he added, hastily, "Thank you."

Sedge glanced around, than spotted Matthias and yet another fair-haired man talking off to the side. He looked apologetically to Erestor. "I apologize, master elf, but I need to speak with Matthias on a few private matters. I'm sure any of the men will be happy to answer any of your questions." He had left before Erestor could respond.

Erestor stood where he was, glancing around uncertainly at the men and hoping he did not look as foolish as he felt. One of the younger men waved him toward himself and his friends, and with only slight hesitation Erestor complied. He felt like a school-child back on Earth trying to decide where to sit for lunch.

"Greetings Master Elf!" The man smiled at him, showing pearly white teeth. Erestor wished they would stop this 'master elf' business. He preferred Erestor, thank you very much. "I am Kuil, son of Ruil, and these are my brothers, Liol and Riagul." They were brothers? All these Rohirrim looked the same to him.

"I am Erestor of Rivendell," he forced a weak smile. The men looked very curious, obviously bursting with questions, and Erestor wished he had sat with someone older who may have had some tact and so avoided questioning him.

"If I may ask, how did you come to be in that orc camp, Erestor?" asked Liol. _Riagul_ seemed to have some tact, at least, and glared at his sibling for the abrupt question, but Erestor had been expecting it, though he did not wish to speak. Still, he could not very well be impolite to those who had rescued him.

"I was traveling to Mirkwood with four others when we were attacked. The orcs must have known something about our group, I suspect, or at the least noticed my clumsy fighting, for they managed to get me away from the others long enough to capture me." He frowned as he considered this himself. How _had _they known to go after him?

"That still does not explain why you were _going _to Mirkwood," Liol insisted. Kuil gave his brother a look that plainly told him to stop speaking, and Erestor inwardly groaned at the questioning.

"I have a message for King Thranduil. The other four were sent as guards, really." He decided not to mention that they were also there to represent Lord Elrond, and three were his sons and the fourth Rivendell's top warrior, nor that he himself was Chief Advisor. The leaders of this eored had a right to know, he supposed, but he would prefer not to parade around the identities of such important people.

Liol looked ready to question him more on his journey, but hard looks from his brothers stopped him, and so the other three talked of more mundane things while Erestor spoke only when spoken too, hoping they would get the message. They finally gave up trying to draw him into the conversation.

* * *

Much to their chagrin, Glorfindel and Elladan found that they had lost the trail and had been going the wrong way. They were taking Redhorn Pass, as it was safer than the mountain passes, and should have reached Lothlorien before the orc attack. Mithrandir led them, trusting Rána to know where to go.

It was getting late when they found the camp.

The camp was, for lack of a better word, a mess. Dead orc carcasses were flung together in the center, some charred but not burnt. It had rained a little, a few days ago.

Orc-weapons were piled up near the bodies, and crude skins filled with the foul orc-drought and packs with inedible food were laid around the camp haphazardly. There were five 'tents' around the perimeter of the small camp, or there had been-they seemed to have burned more easily then the orcs.

Glorfindel and Elladan made for the pile of bodies, fearing the worst, but were stopped by Mithrandir. The wizard gestured for them to stay back, inspecting the ground carefully. Finally he straightened and smiled.

"Fear not! Those who killed these orcs would know better than to slay an elf; Erestor was taken by men."

"Men!" Like most elves, Elladan had little love for men. Rangers were the exception to this.

"Men." Mithrandir looked at him sternly. "Not Easterlings, as I am sure you imagine. They would not kill the orcs but help them, I think. We will follow the trail-it is clear enough. Those that attacked were a large enough group, it seems, which will slow the men, but they ride on horseback, and I know not if we will catch up to them."

Glorfindel nodded seriously. Elf or not, Erestor was a stranger of a strange race to those men-they would likely be wary of him, and may even take him back to their lands as a captive if they did not believe whatever story Erestor saw fit to give.

"Are you tired? No? Good! We must make good time if we are to have any hope in finding Erestor." He turned Rána and started to move through the camp. Then he stopped.

Mithrandir was frozen for a moment, and then an odd look came over his face. He dismounted quietly.

"Mithrandir?" Elladan asked. The Istari ignored him, moving instead toward the group of orcs.

Lying on the ground was a small, thin, polished stick of wood, and though it did not seem to Elladan or Glorfindel anything more than that (though it did to Mithrandir) they were shocked by it nonetheless. For this was Erestor's wand, and on it was a silvery-red liquid.

Elf blood.

* * *

**Please Review! Constructive criticism is always helpful.**


	6. Rookie Mistakes

**A/N: Hello! I updated quicker this time. *grins***

**I'd like to thank DreamOfStories for betareading this. :)**

* * *

**Discaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings and/or Harry Potter**

"Erestor!"

Startled, Erestor looked up, as did the three humans he sat with. Matthias was beckoning to him.

Reluctantly, Erestor rose, body protesting the movement. He was still sore, bruised, and cut from his torture by the hands of the orcs. On the bright side, however, he only had one or two small burns from where the flames leapt higher when he had been put above the fire. _Could be worse,_ Erestor thought. He made his way toward the Rohirrim.

"Yes?"

Instead of answering immediately, Matthias turned and bent, picking something up. The other Men by Matthias watched with interest. Erestor's eyes widened as his sheathed sword came into view, and there was a general gasp as Matthias took it out. The blade shone coldly in the morning light.

"Is this sword yours, Erestor?" He asked. Erestor nodded, surprised and pleased to have his sword found - he had forgotten about his blade. Matthias expertly twirled the sword, slashing at the air. "A fine blade, indeed! Skilled are the smiths of the elves!" Matthias made as if to run a finger down the sword's sharp side, to test its keenness, but Erestor, suddenly alarmed, caught his arm.

"You do not want to do that," Erestor warned as the man looked at him in surprise. The man blinked, puzzled, before deciding to let it go. He shrugged, sheathing the sword, and handed it to Erestor. The elf smiled as he took it. "Thank you, Matthias."

The man still looked curious. "I have never seen a blade quite like that, I must admit, Master Elf. Was it dwarf-made? It is finely done."

"Nay, it was goblin-crafted."

"Goblins!" The man looked shocked. "You jest!"

Erestor just smiled.

* * *

Glorfindel halted Elladan, pausing to bend over an area where several horses appeared to have broken away from the main group. He straightened as he saw the tracks converge again with the main mass. They had not sent out scouts yet, it seemed, and Glorfindel hoped it would stay that way.

"Come on," he told Elladan grimly. The elves continued.

* * *

Mithrandir frowned, puffing at his pipe in the remains of the ruined orc campsite, apparently unperturbed by the corpses littering the area. In front of him on the ground was a small, polished wooden stick.

A stick emanating an odd magical energy.

Mithrandir's eyebrows furrowed, puzzling over this. It was close to what he had felt, this strange aura, or at least a similar type of magic. But, no, what he had felt was different, and it had come from no object. It had come from a person, this much he knew.

Coming to a decision, Mithrandir stood, pocketing the wand as he did so, and went to look for the trail Glorfindel and Elladan had followed.

He had a bad feeling about this.

* * *

Erestor eyed the horse in front of him doubtfully. It pained him enough to walk, and they expected him to ride? He was seeing black spots again, too, which was not a good sign.

Oh, well. He could deal with a little discomfort. He awkwardly mounted the brown mare, feeling quite silly in front of all these humans watching him.

"We will be following our trail back," Matthias told the group, moving his horse back the way that they had come. "If any of Erestor's company follows us I imagine we will meet them easiest this way." The Rohirrims and Erestor followed him.

Erestor's wounds bothered him increasingly as they rode on. In only an hour he was sure he could not ride further, but he bore the pain quietly. As another hour passed, however, the pain was almost intolerable. The black spots were popping up more often as well. There was no great spectacle when it finally happened, and no one noticed until a Rohirrim gave a cry, pointing toward the still form of Erestor on the ground.

* * *

This time it was Elladan who stopped suddenly, and Glorfindel nearly left him behind before taking notice of the lack of footsteps behind him. He stopped as well.

"Do you hear that?" asked Elladan. Glorfindel frowned. He didn't hear…

Wait…

Horses! Those were horses, without a doubt. They were still far ahead, but this had to be the group of humans who had Erestor; Men simply did not venture here often enough for it to be another group. Now that he listened Glorfindel could hear, from far away, the soft pounding of hooves.

They chased after the horses for perhaps only half a mile. The hooves seemed to be coming _toward _them, for some reason, but there was no time to dwell on this.

They were now in an open area with many small hills, trees growing sparsely here. There was, however, one small tree at the base of a hill. They could hear the hooves clearly now and, guessing correctly that the riders were coming toward them, hid in the tree to wait. They did not have to wait long.

The sound of the hooves came to a crescendo, and then suddenly a loose group of horses, five horses long and four abreast, were over the hill. Glorfindel's sharp eyes darted to each rider, and as he saw one of the last riders his breath hitched, for carried in the man's arms was a limp form, and long inky black hair spilled over his arms. Without a word, shaking with fury, he pointed, and Elladan followed his gaze.

Mithrandir had been wrong, Glorfindel knew grimly. The Men had captured Erestor.

* * *

When Erestor had been checked for further injury a relieved Sedge had been able to find none. He, Matthias, and Riagul, who was himself a respected warrior of this eored, moved away from the group briefly to discuss what to do. It was decided they would continue for a short while; Riagul recalled a small patch of trees only a few miles ahead in their path, and the protection of the trees would be worth the wait. Aside from this, Sedge could see no visible sign of a reason to his falling unconscious; the elf was, to the humans, healing remarkably fast, though elves would be shocked at this assessment.

Riagul took Erestor, riding at the very back of the eored. They continued for little over two miles and were nearing the trees now. They were crossing over a hill when Riagul heard the tell-tale _zing _of a bow not far from his head. He jerked backwards automatically, surprised, which hurried his horse forward and saved his life. The arrow aimed for his heart hit instead his shoulder. His shocked shout alerted the rest, and the Men turned, but not quickly enough.

Glorfindel darted from the tree like a flash of white lightning, jumping silently but swiftly next to the wounded man and his horse. Riagul could barely keep a hold on Erestor with an injured arm, and it was no great task for the elf-warrior to take Elrond's advisor from him. So swift was he that Riagul did not even see what had happened at first, but only noticed that Erestor was gone. Bewildered, he turned to each side frantically and thus espied the fleeing balrog slayer.

"They've got the elf!" Riagul found himself yelling. He spurred his war-horse forward, only to yelp as the great beast collapsed under him, an arrow in its skull. Two more horses of the eored followed the fate of the first, and then Matthias' keen eyes spotted a grey blur topped with a head of black jumping from the tree not ten feet from Riagul. His eyes followed the figure and saw him darting swiftly after the golden-haired being that had taken Erestor, and saw now that both were obviously no orcs. But there was no time to dwell on this thought.

He gave chase, and the rest of the eored followed, or those that could - three, including Riagul, were left behind.

For all the great cunning of elves, the attack was still hasty, induced by rage and worry. It was inevitable now that the elves would have to fight, but how could two fight seventeen? But nonetheless they had to try.

Glorfindel stooped as the foremost riders approached, depositing Erestor on the ground. Elladan began shooting again, not wanting to kill the humans and give them more cause to attack, and continue this pursuit but more to slow them down, and so he shot and felled another horse before Glorfindel was met.

Trusting Elladan to watch his back, Glorfindel began parrying blows and slashing at the horses. He knew not why these men wanted Erestor so badly, but if they thought it too costly to continue the attack the men might flee. If any died, however, rage would embolden them – they had attempted to kill Riagul as he had held Erestor, but now they thought more clearly. Glorfindel, killing the innocent horses ruthlessly, did not take into account that 'greedy men' might also care for their mounts as did elves.

But they did, and the horseless riders were great in their wrath. More than half a dozen of the horses fell swiftly, mostly due to Elladan's rapidly depleting arrows, but the remaining riders now caught up to the swifter ones, pushing Glorfindel to his limits. Elladan, seeing what was happening, abandoned his bow and ran to Glorfindel, taking up the sword. They created a deadly circle about Erestor, but were mostly defending, for they had no time to go to the offensive. There were so many riders!

Glorfindel's sword was knocked from his hand as he fought desperately, and he ducked a killing blow from one of the riders. A glint of metal came from the corner of his eye, from Erestor, and he quickly grasped the sword-hilt peeking out from under the advisor's cloak. He blocked a blow while ducking another, and then found the time for a quick and desperate slash in front of him. It was no more than a scratch to the man he hit, but with a hair-raising shriek the man fell from his steed, and writhing on the ground quickly died.

Suddenly the horses pulled back.

A rough circle of seven horses surrounded them, though no order was given, with the horseless men in between those mounted. One man, clearly a leader of this group, raised his sword. The others took out bows, swiftly, and Glorfindel's stomach felt suddenly cold. His eyes, without his consent, flickered down to the dead man at his feet.

"You are surrounded," said Matthias coldly. "If you wish to live, give us our friend." One man took out a long rope, but Glorfindel was not paying attention.

…Friend?

Oh, no…

"We will die before serving men as slaves, as we will die before you harm him," Elladan said strongly.

"Harm him…" The man's voice was a low murmur, puzzled.

"Valar," Glorfindel felt ready to faint at the enormity of their mistake. "Elladan…"

Suddenly there was a single set of quick hoof-beats, light and rushed. An elf-horse. Mithrandir.

The humans did not hear Rána yet. Matthias' eyes flickered to their ears, and his face was full of disgust – but not, Glorfindel knew now, because they were elves. It was because they were presumably attacking another of their kind.

"Bind them," the man commanded. Elladan tensed and crouched, ready to spring, but Glorfindel held up a hand to the younger elf slowly, pausing him. The riders watched tensely, and one dismounted, holding a coil of rope. But Glorfindel barely noticed –the hoof beats were closer. Very close. A few men looked around as though puzzled, thinking they had heard something; moments later all could hear it, and turned to see a white elf-horse coming over another hill. It bore a rider clothed in gray.

Three Rohirrim raised their bows, but the rest merely looked surprised. The rider approached speedily, slowing as he neared the Rohirrim, who shifted to make an opening in their circle. He took the spot, and Mithrandir looked at the two elves impassively, eyes sharp beneath bushy eyebrows.

"Gandalf!" exclaimed Matthias. "I wish I could say I am glad to see you, but there is grim business here, I fear."

"Of what sort?" Mithrandir wondered. "Why do you threaten Elrond's son and his seneschal?"

"Elrond's-" Matthias looked shocked.

"You two have found Erestor, I see." Mithrandir observed. "But obviously disregarded my words concerning the Rohirrim. Not all Men are easterlings, you foolish elves!"

The elves grimaced.

Matthias looked at Gandalf in wonder. "I do not understand."

"Then I shall explain. These two traveled with Erestor, and are both honorable elves of Rivendell. When Erestor was taken by orcs, they gave chase. When they saw you… Well, I'm assuming you attacked first, Glorfindel?"

Glorfindel nodded weakly, feeling like a chastised child. What an amateur mistake! Attacking without true reason, and with only two of them… Oh, how foolish!

"This is all, well, a large misunderstanding…" Mithrandir eyed the dead horses, eyes lingering longest on the single man-corpse.

"Misunderstanding!" Matthias' gaze darkened. "Tihur is dead!"

Glorfindel, sickened, stepped forward and bowed low to the Man. "Knight of Rohan, I do not ask pardon, but offer my sincerest regret and apology for this wrong; there is, I fear, little else which might be done."

Mithrandir stepped forward, for Matthias was not appeased. The wizard knelt by the corpse, and gravely picking up the dead Tihur examined him mutely. Finally he turned to Glorfindel. "How did he die?"

Glorfindel shrugged helplessly. "I know not. He should have gained no more than a flesh wound."

Mithrandir's sharp eyes went to the sword of Gryffindor, held limply in Glorfindel's hand. "That is not your sword, Glorfindel."

Realization came to the elf's eyes. "Ah!" He mourned. "Erestor's sword is poisoned!"

Mithrandir turned to Matthias silently. The head of the eored was not pleased, but…

"You cannot be blamed for wishing to help a comrade," he told them stiffly. "Brave and selfless your actions were, if made in folly." He turned from them, taking his horse away. He would not argue with the word of the gray wizard, for if he respected Gandalf he feared him more. One might be dead, and many horses slain, but that was better than all of them falling. "Leave us now, and do not be expected to be made welcome in these lands, elves of Rivendell."

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	7. Awakening

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A/N: Sorry for taking so long! Thanks to DreamOfStories for betareading.

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**Awakening**

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With the grim words of Matthias echoing in their minds, the two elves and wizard departed quickly. Glorfindel carried the still-unconscious Erestor and, though he was terribly anxious, he did not dare stop to examine the advisor with the eyes of the Rohirrim burning into his back. They walked for a good while, the tension thick, and made for a small patch of trees ahead – the same patch, had they but known it, that the Rohirrim had been planning to camp in.

Once they were in the cover of the trees, Glorfindel set down Erestor and Elladan slipped away quietly to retrieve firewood. Glorfindel glanced over Erestor for visible broken bones and saw none. He took off the shirt of the unconscious elf next and inhaled sharply.

Several shallow, healing whip-marks and welts covered the visible parts of his back, and several wounds Sedge had stitched or bound were bleeding again, making the grisly vision even worse. An ugly but fading blue-tinged bruise could be seen between bindings on one side. Several small, bright burns remained, red and blistering, the only remnants of the worst torture the orcs had inflicted on Erestor.

Aside from the few visible marks however, _most_ of Erestor's body below his shoulders was wrapped, which only made Glorfindel more apprehensive about what was covered. But he was no healer. It would be best, he decided, to leave his wounds as they were. They seemed to already have been tended too, and Glorfindel felt a fresh pang of guilt as he thought of the Rohirrim.

Glorfindel stood to help Elladan with the fire. Once the fire was burning, however, there was nothing left to use to procrastinate. Resigned, he and Elladan silently sat down on the grass.

Mithrandir was silent for awhile, face dark, eyebrows scrunched together in thought as he puffed his pipe. Finally, not looking at either elf, he spoke;

"Why is Erestor on this expedition?"

Glorfindel was surprised; he had thought Mithrandir would want to say_ something_ about the incident with the Rohirrim. "The twins suggested it, and Erestor agreed, after some persuading." Come to think of it, why _had _the twins wanted Erestor to come?

"Hmm." Mithrandir was silent for a time. He stirred after awhile, one hand reaching into his pocket almost cautiously, as though unsure of what he was doing. "Do either of you recognize this?"

He held up a slim stick of polished wood. Glorfindel frowned, something stirring in his memory. Then it hit him. "Well, of course."

Mithrandir's eyes lit up. "Do you?"

"It was at the orc camp, covered with Erestor's blood."

The wizard's face fell. "Not _quite _what I meant, Glorfindel, though that is correct. Do you remember seeing this on Erestor's person prior to the orc-camp?"

Glorfindel racked his mind, but came up with nothing. "Nay, or I cannot recall it; Why is it of such importance?"

Mithrandir pocketed it. "No matter, no matter."

* * *

The small party of Mirkwood elves, numbering only ten, heard the horses far before they saw them. With so many hills dotting the landscape they could not see the source of the slow hoof-beats, but considering how rarely men came this far concluded the horses could be elven-bred. They were quite wrong. The Mirkwood elves, led by their prince, did not need to change their direction much to be going toward the source of the noise, adding to their belief that the riders could be elves coming from Imladris.

It took awhile before the horses came into view, but when they did it was blatantly clear they and their riders were Rohirrim. Due to the hills, however, the elves had not seen the Men until they were near enough for even mortal eyes to see across the distance. They decided they might as well approach.

The Rohirrim now steered their beasts more toward the elves, going at a slow walking pace – it seemed there were more horses then men, and some were walking on their own feet. It was not until they were very close that the Men realized they had come across more of the Fair Folk.

-

It was a fuming Matthias that had led his injured men away from the three elves and Istari.

He and his men had freed the elf from orcs, tended his injuries, fed him, and treated him as they would any injured man! Elves, it seemed, were not as appreciative of such kindnesses. They had responded by slaying their horses, injuring many men, and even killing one! Yet how could he go against a wizard? They would _all _end up dead then, of that he was certain.

He glanced back to where Sedge was, the healer also one of the few mounted. Sedge carried the body of Tihur which they would bury, and his sword, to be given to the man's family. Matthias mentally cursed the elves.

They turned, slowly making for Rohan. They stopped after perhaps fifteen minutes to bury Tihur under the shade of a scraggly tree at the base of a hill – it was too far to Rohan to wait for a proper burial. The sun was getting lower in the sky when they finished. For nearly an hour more they walked in the fading daylight, a grim silence about them, before one of the men pointed in front of them with delight.

"Riders!"

Indeed, he could see the small figures of riders coming toward them, just coming over the crest of a hill, maybe a hundred and sixty yards away.

Relief washed through Matthias. Were these more Rohirrim? In any case they might be willing to help Matthias' battered eored. He turned his own horse toward the group. No words needed to be spoken; the others changed course silently.

The other small group was mounted – Matthias was slightly disappointed by how few they were – and ate up the distance quickly. Soon they were not more than a hundred feet away, approaching rapidly; close enough for Matthias to spot more individual characteristics. The horses were strange to his eyes – tall and long-limbed, lean but strong, all a beautiful, pure white or brown in color. The riders were even stranger, and seemed to glow even if the distance. All of the group but the one leading them were dark-haired. Their leader had bright gold hair, just like that elf who attacked him…

And suddenly, with horror and fury, Matthias realized who – _what – _they were.

"ELVES!"

Matthias spurred his horse forward, blinded by rage.

"Men of Rohan, forward!"

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Prince Legolas of Mirkwood could tell something was amiss even as they approached the eored. He saw men seldom, but knew enough of Rohan to know there were horses aplenty to keep their soldiers mounted. Had this group's horses been killed? Was this group of nineteen men only the scattered remains of some larger war-party? He felt strangely uneasy, though he knew not why, and he certainly did not expect what happened next.

With keen elf-sight, he watched the leader of the eored. His eyes swept over Legolas' nine warriors. When his eyes fell on the prince himself, a shocking rage consumed his face. Legolas reached for his bow as the man kicked his horse to a run.

"Elves! Men of Rohan, forward!"

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Legolas frowned, brow furrowed in thought as he examined the dead riders. Yes, they were of Rohan, and from their garb he would say they were no thieves, though he could not be certain. Why had they attacked? Yes, elves seldom had contact with Men in recent years, and were indeed slowly coming to be thought of as a myth; but always they were portrayed, he knew, as wonderful, mystical beings, kind and fair. Had something happened to set the king of Rohan against the elves? This was troubling.

"Prince Legolas?" asked an elf.

Nineteen mortals dead. Why? Legolas mounted again, and as he did so inwardly vowed he would find out. He tore his gaze away from the bodies. "Come. We continue to Rivendell."

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It took awhile for Erestor, still half asleep when he began to rouse, to realize that he had never gone to sleep, and had instead fainted. With this memory coming back to him, he became alert rather quickly.

His eyes snapped open.

The first thing he saw was a dark form standing over him, and immediately panicking, Erestor rolled away. The movement nearly knocked him out again as the swift movement jarred still-healing wounds. He shot out a hand to push himself up from the ground, half pushed up, then fell back down with a muffled groan. Valar, but his head was pounding!

"He's awake!"

_That is not an orc…?_

He felt more than heard the presence that came to his side, and shaking his head, looked to his right. A hand came down and he took it, pulling himself up more slowly this time.

He looked up to meet the blue eyes of Glorfindel.

Eyes widening, Erestor hastily stepped back, swaying slightly. Glorfindel winced a little, an odd look flashing across his face, but he said nothing, and Erestor inspected his surroundings.

Elladan was there, watching him with concern from beside a small fire. On the other side of the fire was –

"Mithrandir?"

"It is nice to see you awake, Erestor," said Mithrandir mildly. He looked about to say something else, but that was when Erestor noticed something next to him on the ground.

His wand.

Mithrandir frowned at his sharp gasp, and Erestor's eyes bugged. "My – how did you – "

"Ah, so this curious thing _is _yours?" Mithrandir picked up the ancient thing carelessly, fingering it, and Erestor resisted the urge to snatch it away. "What is it, may I ask?"

Fading as he was, Erestor had been divulging a few things about himself he normally would have kept secret. This, however, was quite a different matter. "No you may not," he snapped, and then finally giving into his urge marched over to pluck the wand from Mithrandir's grasp. The wizard was unperturbed, though Elladan and Glorfindel were gaping at him. "How, may I ask, have I come to be in this company?"

"Glorfindel and Elladan… encountered the Rohirrim earlier today. I caught up to them about then, and the Rohirrim handed you over to us. Elrohir was wounded, and he and Estel are still at the site of the attack."

Erestor suspected there was something that Mithrandir was leaving out, but he just nodded, accepting this. "I believe the Rohirrim were searching for Rivendell when they found me. Did they express no desire to see Imladris?"

Something odd flickered over the faces of the two elves. "They said nothing of a want to see Imladris, no." Mithrandir answered.

"How odd…"

Elladan cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I believe this would be an appropriate time for our midday meal, yes?" He rose and quickly began rooting through their supplies. Something about this didn't sit right with Erestor.

After a rather awkward lunch, Glorfindel remembered something.

"Erestor?" The elf stiffened. "If I may ask, what type of poison is on your blade? I was forced to use it a moment while you were unconscious, and the results were… unexpected."

"It - " Erestor stopped. "…why did you need to use my sword, again?"

The other three exchanged looks, and after a moment Mithrandir leaned back, watching the elves through hooded eyes – he obviously wanted no part in this.

"Erestor…" Elladan's voice trailed off. "Erestor, Glorfindel and I weren't quite sure what manner of people had you. When we saw you unconscious…"

It took no genius to understand. Erestor rubbed at his forehead wearily. "You attacked them. Killed…?"

"One was killed by accident, yes," Elrohir said quietly. Mithrandir showed up and convinced them to let us leave, and let us know what a mistake we had made. I fear elves may not be well-received in Rohan in future days."

Erestor closed his eyes, absorbing this, and for a time all that could be heard was the quiet crackling of the fire.

A man had died because of him…

Finally he opened his eyes, turning to Glorfindel. "It is covered with basilisk venom. Snake." His pained tone said quite clearly that he wanted to hear no more of the matter.

"Which can kill rather quickly, it seems," Mithrandir put in, entering the conversation. "You could not have known, Glorfindel." The elf nodded, though he did not seem comforted. "In any case, let us speak of more pleasant matters."

Apparently Mithrandir thought the rising shadow was a more pleasant matter, because the next half hour or so was spent discussing the reason for their trip to Mirkwood. He seemed very interested in the news concerning the increasing number of orcs. While he questioned them extensively, however, he offered very little information himself about the situation, though Erestor wondered at that. Wizards in this world always knew more than they said. He suspected Mithrandir was more troubled than he let on.

Glorfindel glanced skyward now, noting the position of the sun. "We still have quite a bit of daylight left. I imagine Aragorn and Elrohir are becoming uneasy by now. Let's not lengthen their discomfort, hmm?" The others agreed, and now they rose, readying themselves for the long walk back. Erestor caught a look Mithrandir gave him, a measuring look, and with a chill running down his back knew Mithrandir was not just assessing the severity of his wounds.

Mithrandir knew.

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	8. Discoveries

**A/N: Er, Sorry? I'm not even going to bother trying to give excuses or promises, except that I am not abandoning this story. REALLY sorry about the wait!**

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Discovery

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Erestor kept as far as he could from Mithrandir without being obvious. The wizard looked back at him often, though, but he was sure Glorfindel and Elladan thought this not at all odd; they did the same, after all. While he knew they were checking his condition, however, he was quite certain Mithrandir, for one, was assuring himself that Erestor had not yet slipped off; and the elf was sorely tempted to do so. Mithrandir knew of his magic, doubtlessly, but how? The wards of Imladris only kept his presence hidden whilst, of course, _in _Imladris, but before leaving the sanctuary he had spelled himself so none might notice his magical presence -

Except... he hadn't.

Understanding crashed upon him, and he stumbled his next few steps with horror at this realization. He had not spelled himself. Mithrandir had been able to sense him, as had the orcs, and surely any other such power-sensitive creatures. How could he have been so careless? Curse the grief of the Firstborn! Now it affected not just his body, but mind as well?

Elladan had noticed his brief stumble, and misinterpreted it as weariness. He seemed ready to comment, then stiffened, halting where he stood. Glorfindel did the same. Even Mithrandir became alert, head turning int he same direction as the other two elves, but Erestor puzzled over this a long moment before his ears too caught the distant pounding of hoof-beats yet again.

He was still, straining to hear with his weakened senses, as Glorfindel turned to them. "The horses run lighty; these are no beasts of men, stumbling through the plains. We have naught to fear from these ones, I think."

Elladan, relieved, looked inclined to agree, and so Erestor said nothing; Mithrandir was looking at him even more strangely then before.

"Let us wait for our cousins, then, and see what has brought elves to this place. If Elrohir and Estel have caught the horses, still it will not be them, unless my ears deceive me; too many are coming here, and not from Rivendell, either, I think."

"Whomever it might be, they come this way, and swiftly. Let us not fret over their identities; they will be upon us soon enough."

Indeed they were. Soon Erestor could see a small group of horses coming to them, but his eyes were blurred in a way he was unaccustomed to, and he saw no more than vague horse shapes and the glint of sunlight reflecting off the gold hair of the leader.

"My eyes are not so keen as once they were," Mithrandir murmured from close behind him, and Erestor stiffened in surprise. "What is there number, Erestor, whom is it in the front?"

Mithrandir knew very well, he was now certain, that Erestor could not answer this, and his heart pounded in his chest; he felt faint with relief when Elladan answered for him, distractedly. "They number ten, Mithrandir, ten warriors of Mirkwood, and led by Legolas; is that not fine irony?" Now he paused, and his eyes narrowed slowly. "...their quivers, Mithrandir, are not full. Some lack arrows, and others keep full stock; but among these some are red with blood."

"Red?"

"Aye, that is certainly no orc blood," Glorfindel said, troubled. "What is this?"

Then the riders met them, slowing and looking at the four with a little bewilderment as the prince dismounted. "I sense an interesting story here," Legolas commented. "Mithrandir, Lord Glorfindel, Elladan..." Legolas blinked a little as he eyed Erestor. "You have left Imladris as well, Advisor? An interesting story, indeed." Now his gaze flickered over Erestor's form, and his look changed to one of concern. "Have you been injured?"

Legolas waved a hand behind him distractedly as he came forward, and the other warriors dismounted. "Never have I seen one of our people so pale! What has happened?"

"Orcs," said Mithrandir,"the reason for this group being sent to Mirkwood."

"Indeed? Your wounds have been seen to, I trust?"

"Quite well, Prince Legolas." Erestor assured him. Legolas had always struck him as a fine elf - a fine elf who, unlike his well-meaning but frustratingly stubborn father, still kept some humbleness.

"Just Legolas is fine, Erestor." Legolas smiled, seeming reassured that the advisor was in no danger of collapsing, and continued speaking. "Actually, we were sent as messangers to Imladris. After the Enemy was driven from Barad-Dur the Spiders lessened for a time, but they are growing in number again, and orcs have come with them; it is not so strange now to find the odd warg in our forests. It is increasingly difficult to protect our borders. We have heard that it is not only Mirkwood that is becoming more dangerous."

"This is the very matter we have been sent to address," Erestor told him.

"Interesting - but, while I mean to offend none, not so very wise on your parts. Mirkwood is not safe, now more than ever, much less for those who do not know her forests so well. I would propose that we all continue to Rivendell, and discuss this with yourselves and Lord Elrond in the safety of those halls."

This was agreed with, but the party of Imladris was not all accounted for. "Your reasoning is sound, my friend," Elladan told him. "but we can not turn back yet. Elrohir was injured during Erestor's capture. He and Estel are awaiting us yet at the attack site."

"Injured? And nothing was said of Erestor being _captured._" Legolas was alarmed.

"Elrohir is well," Glorfindel assured him. "He will suffer no lasting harm, and is likely recovered for the most part even now; but speed was of the essence, you see."

"Ah, yes; how did you manage to recover Erestor from the orcs?"

An uncomfortable silence fell, and Legolas frowned, sensing the tension. "...We did not," said Elladan finally."

"Men," said Glorfindel, his voice heavy with sorrow. "Men it was who rescued him, and tended to his wounds. And when again he fell unconscious, and they bore him upon their steeds toward Rivendell, we saw them from afar, and judged wrongly that they were in league with the orcs."

"We attacked them," said Elladan, and his eyes were dark. "Slayed their horses and one of their own, before we realized our wrong and Mithrandir found the battle. The fair folk, I fear, will not be welcomed with kindness ever again by the valiant riders of Rohan."

"Indeed they shall not!" Legolas cried, aghast. "We came upon men as well, few of them riding, their group injured and weary and their tattered garb that of the warriors of Rohan. They hurried to meet us when we came into their sight; but when they neared us I saw their leader turn mad with rage, and they screamed their battle-cries and launched a futile attack; and we killed them in defense."

The elves were silent. Erestor's heart was beating and straining against his chest; he could not breathe. Dead, all of them dead, Sedge and Matthias and Riagul... His bones were ice, his flesh numb. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. Dead, dead because of him, just like before...

They began the travel back, then, grim and silent. Elladan led the way, Mithrandir beside him, with Glorfindel seeming to flutter about, ever watchful as he peered about the lands. The riders of Mirkwood spoke not, riding slowly, apart from the three of Imladris. Their faces were solemn, and with his weakened senses Erestor thought he may have heard one singing a lament, softly, as they journeyed.

Largely on his mind were thoughts of the kind Rohirrim, who had come to his aid and been betrayed by his own people. His life had been spared, for however little time he may endure it now, in exchange for twenty brave riders with years yet before them.

Mithrandir glanced back at him, his eyes gleaming and thoughtful, and Erestor remembered, then. Yes, the spell. He could not muster his earlier panic as he thought of the spell he had forgotten in leaving Imladris. It would be best to don it now, as soon as possible, for orcs and other fell things may yet sense him, and it might be quite time before they stopped and gave him a chance to slip away.

Mithrandir turned his eyes again to the front. Erestor glanced around, and, noticing no one looking at him, slipped out his weathered wand from his pocket. Mithrandir may suspect its use now, but he would leave that knowledge unconfirmed as long as he might. He tried to recall the spell. It had been so long, and his elf-memory was dissipating with everything else. What was it...?

Ah, yes. A complex movement was made, one unfortunately requiring that he draw the wand out more fully.

"_Velierus venificus!"_

The wand tip flared blue, and he smoothly twitched it back into his pocket. In his peripheral vision he saw the elves jerk their heads about to stare at him, but kept his gaze straight. A moment later they shook themselves and returned to how they had been. Mithrandir glanced back now, eyeing him with a touch of surprise a moment, but does not approach him either.

Erestor was relieved. That should lessen orc attention, at the least, and no one seemed to have noticed anything unusual. Except...

...Where was Glorfindel?

A chill ran down his spine. Stiff, he turned his head slowly, and was met with the elf-lord's bewildered gaze.

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It was dark when finally the company halted. It was Mithrandir who suggested the rest, but the others were quick to agree, and Erestor did not miss their eyes coming to rest on him. His weakness was easily apparent now, and ,t seemed, was accelerating, for his sight and strength had not returned at all. He had rode on one of the horses, graciously given up by one of the Mirkwood elves, but still his body had sagged, and from time to time his eyes flickered shut in the silence.

Elladan, Legolas, and three of the Mirkwood elves whose names he knew not made a show of making themselves ready to sleep, but he knew it to be only for his benefit; they could not yet be tired, not healthy elves such as they. The rest of the elves did not bother, instead taking the chance to scout the surrounding area for more orcs. As for Mithrandir - well, Erestor was uncertain where he was. He seemed to have simply disappeared.

He lay down and tried to sleep, but despite his earlier fatigue, it seemed he was forbidden the respite of sleep. Erestor lay awake, even as he listened to the evening breathing of his sleeping companions, and he knew if he turned to look he would see their bright eyes gleaming in the darkness.

He rose finally, with as much grace and silence as he could find it in him to muster, and decided that perhaps tiring himself would help him sleep. Perhaps going for a walk was not so wise, but what was the worst that could happen? Him be killed by a stray orc? Possible, but not relevant, all things considered. And it _was _peaceful, the silence. They had never been so far from Elladan and Aragorn, and already had gone a fair way, riding horses as they were (the other three and the Mirkwood elf having doubled with other riders) and Erestor knew they were very near where Elladan and Aragorn were; where he had been attacked. Yet the thought did not intimidate him. He could almost _smile_ here, actually. Erestor walked in the thin shoes of his people, and could feel the tall grass beneath his feet, the gathering dew alien and refreshing. He could see barely anything, but the night was not 'eerie' or 'mysterious'. The scent of wet grass and wood filled the air, and for just a moment, he felt at peace; and then a hand was around his neck.

His eyes, which had closed unconsciously, flew open as he sputtered and fought, but the other was stronger. He was shoved back, dizzyingly, and felt rough bark scraping at his still-tender back. He grew light headed immediately, but the grip on his neck loosened, enough for him to breath but still keeping him in place. His body dangled, feet not even touching the ground, and then he was lowered. Now he saw his attacker; Glorfindel.

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_**Please Review! (And, by the way, Glorfindel is NOT evil! Sorry about the cliff-hanger!)**_


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I know, the last was evil of me. Does this make up for it? :) I'm trying to keep it realistic while going with eventual friends ending, but it's a little difficult, so I hope I did well!**

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9

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Glorfindel, watching the terrified elf in front of him, could hear his heart beating in his ears. Centuries he had yearned to confront the elf, but not like this, creeping about in the night and assaulting the injured Erestor. Ah, but what else was to be done? Stranger and stranger Erestor was behaving; he needed answers.

Erestor said nothing, staring at him silently, his dark green eyes wide and betrayed. Glorfindel spoke to him, voice low. "Be silent; I will not harm you." Hopefully, at least. Erestor did not appear to feel comforted by this, and Glorfindel continued, voice soft in the silence of the forest.

He felt, in a way, as though some explanation was needed. A strange notion; what explanation did he owe this dark creature? Nonetheless he found himself speaking. "I have noticed you, Erestor, since first I came to be in Rivendell, and for reasons I know not I was even then aware of something dark and queer about you; when on one memorable eve I espied you speaking in the tongue of serpents, proof I had finally for my suspicions." Erestor's eyes widened marginally. "Other oddities became apparent; your scars, your strange habits and solitude, your unknown background; more lately, your curious sword, words of your past fights and youth, sleeping with eyes shut in the manner of the _Edain -" _Glorfindel released Erestor, and the elf took a shaky breath. he hand was replaced with a small dagger at his throat. "Now I find you here, wandering and stumbling through the night as though blinded, though you be weak and weary; shall you say nothing in your defense, Erestor?"

"I have nothing to say to your likes; never have I wronged you. How do you justify this attack?"

Glorfindel recoiled. "Attack? Defence, more like! I saw you, Erestor, as just this day you murmured in a strange tongue, and unearthly lights came from that bit of wood which interested Mithrandir so. You hide something, yet always it escapes me. Speak!"

Glorfindel's words were a growl, trying to cow the other elf, but even as he spoke unease now filled him. Erestor's white pallor, he thought, could not be attributed wholly to fear. His hands were shaking, and he swayed even as he listened, looking like to swoon any moment.

He did not even give pause for Erestor to try and answer his last query before giving another, a strange question for an elf in any circumstance, much less this one, but his acquaintance with Aragorn and the habits this bred prompted him; "Are you ill?"

And, from the look on Erestor's face, none of his earlier questions were answered, but one thing at least was irrefutably clear. He stepped back, hastily, his own face going gray.

_How does he know, how does he know?_

The horrified shock and panic on Erestor's face spoke to Glorfindel as well as words, and he had not a doubt in his mind; Erestor was dying.

Erestor must have understood the look on Glorfindel's face. The elder elf stepped back, the hand holding the dagger falling limply to his side. Erestor bowed his head, saying nothing, and finally Glorfindel took a moment to truly look at him.

Pale - not the healthy, shining white of usual elves, but gray and dull. He was thin as well, dangerously, but as elves were always slender and Erestor even more so than most this had never really been something of notice to Glorfindel.

His hands were still shaking.

Disbelieving, he reached out a hand, automatically, but froze as the elf flinched, stepping back. His eyes never wavered from Glorfindel, alert for any further signs of attack.

_What have I done?_

"...How?" The words came out breathlessly, a strangled gasp from the discomposed warrior. Suddenly, Erestor was not fearful or surpised or sorrowful or secretful, not even angry; he was simply bitter.

"You stand here reciting all the reasons of your hate, then ask after my health?" The advisor gave a strange laugh, the sound wavering and unstable. "You, Glorfindel, have been the greatest cause of woe for me these last few centuries. For nigh on three thousand years I have waited, clinging to any remnant of hope, hope for change and happiness - I will wait no longer. I can not. You returned to these lands through the grace of the Valar, but most of all Mandos; is this payment to him, perhaps? A life to replace your own?"

Erestor was speaking, Glorfindel knew, but the sound was no more than a buzz in his ears after the first words were understood. _He _had cause this. He had never landed a blow with sword or knife, but that meant little; he had killed Erestor, as surely as if he had slit the elf's throat himself.

_"Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,_

_and one by one with sighing sound..."_

Glorfindel started, as did Erestor. Both were staring as Mithrandir came into view, voice trailing off into a hum. He nodded curtly in greeting as he saw them. He gestured to Glorfindel.

"I have been looking for you; I wish to clarify a few details of the orc-attack. Come now, come now, don't keep an old man waiting. And what precisely are you doing about, Erestor? You really should be resting."

"Of course, Mithrandir," Erestor agreed weakly. Glorfindel, bewildered, found himself nodding, and suddenly he was being ushered away by Gandalf.

They walked a distance away, Glorfindel's thoughts tumultous and confused, and then Mithrandir abruptly smacked his shoulder with his staff.

Glorfindel yelped, spinning, and saw Mithrandir gazing at him darkly. "Silence. Sit, and consider that which you have wrought. What happens next is dependant on you, Lord Glorfindel, and pray to the Valar that it goes well!"

* * *

Mithrandir sighed, leaning against a tree and watching the glittering Earendil in the sky. He had suspicions about the advisor, but that could wait. If he died due to Glorfindel's actions, he thought wryly, the confirmation of his theory would mean little. He shook his head. These elves were thousands of years old. Why did they act so like children?

* * *

Glorfindel tilted back his head, eyes glazing with thought as he gazed unseeingly at the stars dappled throughout the sky. _Dying. _One of his 'immortal' brethren was dying, had been dying for a time unknown to him, and he was the cause. _He, _Glorfindel, had caused such grief in one of the merry Fair-Folk as to bring about the elf's death.

Surely not? Erestor had been just as reserved and grim when he had first met him, he could not have caused that... That, however, had been centuries ago, and Erestor had lived in the Hidden Vale for many centuries more before then. _Something _had happened to affect him in such a way... It was _not _him, Glorfindel thought fiercely. It could not be! If his actions were the cause, then surely, he rationalized, this all would have happened much sooner.

Except... He _had _been a little more... _frequent _and _enthusiastic _about his attempts to reveal the truths of Erestor...

No. He could not rationalize anything. Memories came to him; lounging in Erestor's office, mocking the advisor who tried in vain to ignore him; grabbing the elf by the shoulder as he passed in the hallways and doing the same, in full view of uncomfortable soldiers; on one occasion shoving the elf and furiously questioning the hapless Erestor after a security breach and possible attempted attack on the twins, later revealed by sheepish young elves to be a mere friendly prank. He saw Erestor, silent, and himself, growling and snapping and yelling and shoving and mocking-

CRACK!

Shaking, Glorfindel stared uncomprehendingly at his hand, dripping blood, and then at the snapped tree before him. He swallowed.

He was done with this. He _would _find out what was so strange about Erestor, and finally get this behind them.

* * *

Erestor, perhaps unwisely, did not return to sleep. Instead he continued his meandering walk, and unlike the others yet awake his eyes were not on the sky but the ground as he stumbled over tree roots and rocks. He also differed in that he was not thinking so deeply, or at all, truth be known. His mind was blank, and he couldn't seem to even _think _coherently after what had happened.

"Erestor?"

Erestor gasped sharply before he could restrain himself, jumping and stumbling to the left as a figure appeared as his right. Glorfindel reached out to steady the advisor, then caught himself, pulling back his surely unwelcome hand as Erestor eyed him warily.

Silence stretched between the two, both seeming content to stare for a time. Finally Glorfindel stepped forward; Erestor stepped back.

"My sincerest apologies I offer to you for what I have caused." The words were awkward, confused. "If my suspicions prove wronged, I think. If shown right, then perhaps it is not so sincere; but nonetheless I will mourn any of my elven kinsman to this fate which seems yours, and at my behest, it seems."

Erestor took a moment to process this, mind fitting together the words with effort. He latched onto one part, ignoring the strange almost-apology. "...Suspicions?"

"As I said in our earlier... encounter... I have long held suspicions. Even as I first met you, your queer difference set you apart; your scars, your silence, even your manner of walking. For a time I was unkind, but berated myself for my foolishness, seeing mine own error; yet ere I could wholly cast off my doubts, whilst still in the beginning of my tenure in Rivendell I espied you even so innocently, watching from my hidden resting-spot on the grounds as you spoke to a serpent, a mark of evil; and stranger still I found you with that strange item which so piqued the interest of Mithrandir, murmuring in strange tongues that seemed to herald a curious power. Other things, as well, especially of late; Your sword, which you seem to have no need of, yet fine as an elven-blade wrought by Feanor himself. Also there was when you we found asleep, but sleeping as one of the Edain - though," Glorfindel added, voice laden with regret, "the reason for the last, at least, is now clear to me, though I rue the knowledge. I beg no pardon, for such a thing can not be asked, nor granted, I think; yet still I offer what apologies and condolences I may, Lord Erestor." Humbly, he bowed, and waited for what response, if any, might follow.

And indeed it looked as though there might be none. Erestor was quiet now, his dull green eyes glimmering strangely, not with tears but some unnamed emotion or thought, perhaps, and indeed his mind was swimming with thoughts, such that he was unable to understand himself. Nonetheless he found himself speaking, almost against his will.

"Speech of the serpent, a sign of evil; perhaps so, but are there never exceptions? Yet, in a way correct, had you but known it; though not as you might think." And for the first time in approaching three thousand years, he found himself speaking almost of his so distant past as one of the_ Edain_, though he knew not why. "A curse which gifted me so well, yet still brings me sorrow, though he who cast it long ago I slew; a fell curse of a dark wizard gave me this scar..." and a pale finger traced his own forehead, almost absently: "and gave to me this skill of his; and though he be long dead still he haunts me, that impossible spirit. And there are two of your answers."

Glorfindel looked stricken. "I - "

"I am sure that you did not know, and I have your apologies, and it is so sad that I shall die," Erestor said wearily. Glorfindel recoiled at this, horrified at his apparent flippancy.

"Erestor - you can not - because of me..."

"Ah, and we come to your true concern, do we? You care nothing of my fate - do not think to fool me, unhonorable scion of the Golden Flower! You care but for your own blame in this matter, and naught else. How would your soldiers look upon you after this, you wonder?

A shudder swept through the elf-lord. "Say not such lies! Do you think such truly?"

Erestor clenched his fist, and felt his nails draw blood. "...No."

And he did not; he loathed Glorfindel, and a dark fury unlike any felt since his time among the mortals was upon him, yet he was unable to say that the other was so selfish and petty, for he knew much of the great deeds and renowned character of the valiant elf-lord before him, though for his part not one action of Glorfindel to him had ever supported this.

Yet - some faint, alien compassion stirred within him at the bleak face of Glorfindel, strange and troubling. He cast it down immediately, but now was uneasy.

Glorfindel seemed unable to speak, and Erestor's thoughts were confused and tumultous, yet perhaps the silence stirred him again into speech. "Strange tongues I have spoken, for to you strange tongues I have grown speaking; and indeed that sword which is mine is a lovely thing, but this is no crime I know of, goblin-wrought though it might be. And the use of those words, and that bit of wood... you may think of it as a small staff. It focuses magic, which I do indeed possess; I am a wizard."

"By the Valar! What is this?" Glorfindel was increasingly bewildered and distraught. "The Istari always have assumed the forms of old _Edain_! An elf-maian?"

"Nay, not maian, though wizard I truly be, but seperate from any you ever have known; and it is not so strange." And here a strange quirk came to Erestor's lips, bitter; "I am, truth be known, not quarter-elf; so perhaps it might be said that still there is no elf-wizard. Nay, do not stare so; I speak truly." A strange light came to his eyes. "I will not tell lies."

Dismayed, Glorfindel again stepped forth; Erestor matched his step back. "Leave me be, Elf!"

"Speak not such words! None I have I before seen so worthy of our immortality, Erestor, waste it not - "

"Waste? Speak not of such that I have no control over by your doing, and less still of matters you know not. After all these years suddenly you claim to know me, and deem me _worthy? _What is this?"

"Erestor - "

"Leave me, Glorfindel. Have you not done enough?"

* * *

Elrond and the elf soldiers seemed to be flying with their horses through the woods. Not one had managed to have an explanation from their lord as to the specifics of this mad pursuit after the diplomatic party, but it was clear it was urgent. Silent and grim, they followed.

The elf horses had rested little, and it was a surprise and a relief when not long after one of the short rests that Elrond began to slow, coming to halt. The elves were not so pleased, however, once they saw the remains of a camp, and orc and elf blood mingled through the area.

"We are too late."

* * *

　**A/N: Yeah, cruel, I know. Sorry! Reviews?**


	10. Decisions

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, any of the characters, places, etc. etc.**

* * *

Glorfindel was silent as Erestor left, but he watched after the elf as he walked away, stumbling over roots even in the starlight. Grief gnawed at him, and as the other faded from his sight he slowly sat where he stood, on the damp ground.

Erestor was right. That was not debatable. Would Glorfindel truly feel such regret for his actions if Erestor were not fading? Would he feel_ any _regret were that so?

He had never wished Erestor death, though.

_Yes, how very noble a sentiment, that I did not actively yearn for the death of an innocent acquiantance, _Glorfindel thought, scorning himself. To make up for this - well, that was impossible. But he would do what he could, now, while there was yet time. Erestor was fading, but had not some so plagued with grief come back from the brink as their sorrow healed?

The thought, however, made him wince. The words Erestor had spoken hinted at a strange and likely tragic past, but the large motivator of his woe seemed to be Glorfindel himself, and his unceasing belittlement.

The last elf to fade... That had been almost two thousand years ago, he thought with no small astonishment. And now he would be the cause of the second death-by-grief of the elves in the Third Age. And one which, unlike the usual causes of grief, was caused not by the Enemy but one of Erestor's fellow Eldar.

Elves were known to die from grief caused usually by the death of loved one, usually caused by the Enemy, with most of those loved ones being immortal elves also, or by torture of the Enemy. Twice there had been deaths due to unrecquited love, the details of which Lindir the minstrel seemed to delight in lamenting. Never, however, had he heard of a case such as this, where an elf died due to not the Enemy or such unfortunate circumstances but by unrelentless _harassment _- could he call it anything but? - by another of his people.

And it was he who had caused this. He who sent Erestor to the Halls of Mandos, to wait for a time and journey to Valinor beyond the Sea, where, if Glorfindel suspected rightly, he had neither friend nor kin to welcome him - just as he had neither here. Only enemies, and those who might bear his presence with cold words and curt manners due to necessity.

He realized that ruminations on Erestor's misery did nothing of aid, and a strange resolve came to him; he _would _fix this.

First, however, he needed to figure out _how._

His thoughts turned to Erestor's outburst earlier. A wizard, he had claimed, but not maiar, and less than even quarter-elf, though that thought quite bewildered Glorfindel; had not the Valar decreed that only those with half-elf blood or more be allowed to live as one of the Fair-Folk? Well, it was not to he to question the acts of the Valar, and so he banished that thought for the time.

A wizard. Was that, perhaps, another the reason he had been able to speak to the snake, besides the talk of a wizard? Did not the Istari know the tongues of bird and beast? And if he were hiding his being so endowed, Glorfindel realized, would he not hide also the signs of his gifts?

Affiliation with a dark wizard, apparently out for Erestor's blood, and the mystery of a goblin-wrought blade which looked more elvish in make than of the rough forges of those cave-creatures. And... he had said that he had killed the wizard who had given him that scar. The thought was strange; Erestor, so easily swept away by orcs, defeating a dark wizard?

Perhaps a more interesting question; _what _dark wizard? There were few enough wizard at all, much less those with an inclination toward more corrupt magics...

Glorfindel stilled his thoughts abruptly. Curious as he was on the subject of Erestor's past, it was not relevant; the object was to heal him of his suffering and thus return his life, not to delve into his past.

How to go about that, however? He had already committed to a cessation of his cruelty, though the moment he had done so he knew not. Merely _lack _of his usual taunts and barbs, he thought, would not solve the issue, and in any case if something was to be done it must be accomplished speedily; Erestor was far too close to death for any long deliberations.

When they reached Elrohir and Aragorn and returned to Rivendell he would approach Lord Elrond with the matter, Erestor's possible objections to that be damned, and until then he would do what he could to pry the secrets from the advisor, and do what he could to help him.

Somehow though, Glorfindel thought, he was rather certain Erestor would _not _be so very receptive to the idea of Glorfindel as a confidente.

* * *

When the sun rose in the morning the company set out, riding now at a swifter pace. Glorfindel kept to the back of the group, with Erestor before him. The rest were some way ahead yet, pushing on toward Aragorn and Elrohir with urgency barely checked as they hastened, hoping to return to Rivendell before any more orcs might be run across. The group was spread about, and when Glorfindel judged the next elf to be some thirty-five feet in front of Erestor he spurred on his horse - not so receptive as Asfaloth, and where was that horse now, anyway? - to come beside Erestor.

Erestor had been sagging in his sadle, but now straightened, glancing at Glorfindel before directing his gaze again forward. Glorfindel said nothing for awhile, and as Erestor finally began to relax at last spoke, quietly so as not to draw attention.

"What was the wizard's name?"

Erestor started, looking at him in confusion. "What?"

"What was the wizard's name?" Glorfindel repeated patiently.

Erestor stared at Glorfindel a moment. "Why do you need this information, might I ask?"

"Must curiousity have reason?"

Erestor said nothing, and Glorfindel repeated himself again. "What was the wizard's name?"

A little irritated, Erestor responded. "You know who."

"...I do?" Glorfindel was the one who started now, casting a shocked look toward Mithrandir at the front.

Erestor rolled his eyes. "Do not be a fool," he snapped.

"The how do I know?" Glorfindel was puzzled. What dark Maias did he know of? There was Sauron, of course, but of course Erestor had not killed him...

"You do not know him," Erestor said curtly. He turned his head toward the front.

"You just - "

"He was _called _You-Know-Who, you ignorant..." Erestor settled for an angry sound in place of whatever insult he was thinking, but Glorfindel had the suspicion that he was not thinking the most complimentary of things.

"Ah, my apologies. Very strange. Did you not know his name, then?" Glorfindel asked politely.

Ignoring him, Erestor urged his horse into a quicker pace, leaving Glorfindel behind. The elf-lord only smiled.

* * *

Lord Elrond scanned the ground for any hint that he might see, even as one of his trackers, Faroth, slowly moved about examing the foliage and ground.

"... There were at least some twenty orcs here," he said at length. "With all the prints, it is difficult to say, but no more than perhaps thirty." Elrond wished he had Aragorn here. He was a marvelous tracker; he could have said the exact number of orcs, the minute they had left, and a dozen of random details that Elrond did not know how he concluded, but Aragorn was always right about them anyway. And the four dead orcs would have told him even more, no doubt. "We missed them by perhaps a day, my lord. Furthermore, I believe not all of the party was taken." Elrond stood straighter at that. "See the blood? Elf and _Edain, _so doubtlessly Lord Estel was among them, but signs show only one elf was taken, by the footprints."

Likely Lord Erestor, Elrond thought with a sigh. How he would convince his reclusive advisor into another excursion after this disaster - well, it might be another few thousand years yet before Erestor dared to leave Rivendell again.

But where were the others?

"What... My Lord!" The tracker beckoned to him to examine faint print leading to the area. "Lord Estel's prints, and those of another. They seem to have been alone here."

"Is that so?"

The tracker abruptly began following the prints back. A little surpised, Lord Elrond followed, the others drifting behind.

They had walked only a minute before the scent of rotting flesh hit them. The tracker's pace increased, almost unconsciously, and Lord Elrond tried to reassure himself that his sons and Glorfindel were very fine fighters, certainly not to be overtaken by a small group of orcs. When they came upon the first rotting orc-corpse, however, this was not so comforting.

The tracker straightened grimly as they surveyed the littered bodies, and the blood, mostly black and foul but with red stains here and there as well. "It is presumable, my lord, that those who were taken had left this area - likely due the stench," he added. "Only two of the party left that way, however..."

He scanned the ground before him, walking slowly through the mess, then straightened.

"Orc tracks can be seen leaving in another direction, and after them elf. There are traces of blood leading to the previous site; it seems one of those captured was injured." Lord Elrond grimaced, but said nothing. "Unfortunately, while I can not say for certain I do not believe any of the group would give chase to the orcs whilst leaving behind injured, or not with no cause."

Elrond understood.

"One of them was taken as well."

* * *

The elves and Istari stopped in the afternoon to eat and give the horses rest, and Erestor found weariness and, a new thing, _hunger_ grawing at him. _And now elf-endurance in even that regard leaves me as well. _He tore into the food ravenously as he could without being obvious.

His eating stopped as Glorfindel approached. He sat stiffly, waiting, but the Balrog-slayer said nothing, serenely eating his own rations, not even glancing at Erestor though they sat but a foot apart. After several minutes dragged by, Erestor resumed, and had nearly been able to forget his presence when Glorfindel spoke.

"Do you like snakes?"

Erestor jumped slightly, neck cracking as he looked at Glorfindel. Glorfindel's neck was tilted back as he inspected the branches above him.

Erestor turned back to his food.

"I imagine you would." Erestor kept eating, ignoring him. "With the ability to speak their tongue."

Actually, Erestor was not very fond of snakes at all. He did not say anything.

"I am curious; are snakes intelligent?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Erestor saw Glorfindel looking at him with interest. _Moreso than some elves, _Erestor thought but did not say.

Glorfindel looked unfazed by his lack of answer, continuing to stare as Erestor became increasingly uncomfortable, then abruptly layed back against the grass to rest until they rode again.

_What are you up to?_

* * *

_**Please Review!**_


	11. Alone

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! Watched each movie consecutively yesterday (yes, I have that kind of time, and with the first and third movie being the extended version too) and felt a little more inspired to write this... Even if Glorfindel and Erestor aren't in them. This chapter is a little strange - mostly just showing that Glorfindel is trying to do something, etc. Begins kind of in a less serious mood.**

**_E11_**

* * *

As they reached the site of the orc attack, Erestor felt a pang of worry at the empty area, though this was almost immediately dispelled. Of course Aragorn and Elrohir would not stay with all these corpses.

Legolas and one of his elves were examining the ground. A moment later they rose. "There are more elves!" Legolas declared. "There are fresh tracks to and from this area, just put down. Quickly!"

They rode, following the trail. Erestor was pleased to see a surprised Elrond at the site, along with several soldiers of Imladris.

"Elladan? Glorfindel? ...Erestor?" He sounded slightly surpised at the last. "I had assumed you were with Aragorn... Well, it is a relief to find you all well. Prince Legolas." He inclined his head in greeting. "I am sure that an interesting story is behind this, but there is no time for pleasantries. Aragorn and Elrohir have been kidnapped."

Elladan said a word quite unbecoming for one of the Firstborn.

"How has this come to pass?" Glorfindel demanded.

"I know not; it seems to have been recent, however. They do not appear to number so many. With steeds we shall catch and defeat them easily enough, with your aid...?" He looked at Legolas.

"Of course, My Lord." Legolas inclined his head. "However, I do not believe Erestor should accompany us."

"Well, he..." Elrond paused as he truly looked at Erestor. "Erestor! What - "

"He was taken by orcs," Glorfindel interjected. "Legolas is right, he should rest, and in any case should be nowhere near a fight. I will stay with Erestor while the rest of you ride on."

Elladan blanched a little, but Erestor himself could only stare at Glorfindel dumbly.

"You should be able to make do with one less, and I would not have Erestor left alone and injured," he continued.

Erestor very much wanted to protest, but he could not find his voice. Elrond nodded. "We will leave behind two horses, then, though I hope they shall find no need; I suggest that you stay close to this area as you might..." His gaze flickered over the corpses, nose wrinkling in disgust.

Glorfindel bowed slightly, and Elrond leaped back upon one of the horses. The tracker Faroth set off at a brisk pace, and the others followed, Elladan looking at Erestor with worry as he went by, and then they had all disappeared in the forest.

Erestor was alone with Glorfindel.

* * *

It was almost painful, the silence. Glorfindel, however, decided that he needed to break it, and that was perhaps even worse.

"So," Glorfindel said, much to cheerful for Erestor's tastes, "You say you're quarter-elven? Might I ask how the Valar have allowed you immortality?"

"Because they forbid me mortality," He said, a trifle bitterly, then immediately regretted answering at all, for Glorfindel seemed to take this as encouragement.

"A rather pessimistic view, do you not think?"

"With Glorfindel of Gondolin so in my life, it is the upmost of optimism."

Glorfindel tsked. He actually _tsked. _"I have not been of Gondolin for many a year, Erestor." Glorfindel considered him a moment. Glorfindel, later, would not know why he asked this; "Is Erestor your real name?"

Erestor, himself, would never know quite why he continued to respond. "No. Harry."

"Harry? What name is Harry?" Glorfindel asked, a little disgusted.

"A human one, given by mortal parents," Erestor growled, irate. "And Erestor would have seemed a strange choice of names for them, I assure you." Although... His parents _had _had a friend named Sirius...

"Well, mortals _are _very strange." Glorfindel decided, as though that made it less a terrible thing to give their son such a name. "What were your parents like?"

Irritated, Erestor did not even respond, staring at the sky.

Unperturbed; "If you lived among mortals, from whence are you from?"

Erestor started tapping his foot against the ground.

"Was your mother elven, or does this rare blood come from your father?"

Erestor eyed a cloud. It was the strangest shape. It looked a little like a broom.

"Is the elven blood of Luthien? For I know not of any others who have wedded mortals, though our Evenstar seems to be a likely second."

Erestor quickly withdrew his sword, but Glorfindel did not even start. A little disappointed but keeping his face blank, he took a rag from his pocket and began wiping the blade.

"Is that writing on the blade?"

Erestor's hand paused, then continued, a little quicker. Damned Noldor!

"Are those queer symbols etched upon your hand writing as well?" His voice was not so cheerful now.

And, because ignoring the irritant was not working; **"Yes."**

Glorfindel stopped, staring at him, a little befuddled. "Is that the language of your kin?"

**"Yes."**

Glorfindel sighed slightly. "Does that mean 'yes', 'no', or possibly 'be silent'?"

"**Yes."**

Glorfindel, finally, fell silent. Erestor congratulated himself silently, but then; "So_, are _the symbols upon your hand writing?"

Erestor stood and walked away.

* * *

Glorfindel let him be for some thirty minutes, perhaps, and then pranced - was there any other word to describe it? - back into sight and approached Erestor.

Erestor eyed his sword longingly, then looked up a the elf-lord. "I," Glorfindel informed him, "Have observed that you seem slightly depressed..."

**"Do you not understand what fading is?"**

Glorfindel ignored the harsh language, continuing. "and have as such found you someone besides myself to converse with."

_What?_

Glorfindel held up a snake.

_Oh, for the love of - _

_"Fool! Release me, I demand of you, swift-running-loud-pointy-ear!"_

Despite his efforts to the contrary, Erestor's lips twitched. He always loved the way snakes spoke, describing some things in place of names, and now especially. _"Is he not? I apologize that the swift-running-loud-pointy-ear had disrupted your day."_

The snake perked up. _"Greetings, Speaker! I am small and my poison-teeth-bite weak. Will dark-speaker-pointy-ear kill this one?"_

_"Unfortunately, I can not."_

_"Pity. Why does annoying pointy-ear take me?"_

_"He is strange." _Glaring at Glorfindel, Erestor took the snake and set it on the ground. _"My apologizes. Return now to you home."_

_"Farewell, dark-pointy-ears."_

Erestor looked up to glare at Glorfindel. The irrepressible elf-lord was grinning.

* * *

Glorfindel was fully aware that Erestor was sick of him - but he was also aware that Erestor now looked_ angry _as opposed to _sad, _and he had certainly never heard of an elf dying of fury (unless it was the actions caused by said fury) and concluded that this was the lesser of two evils. It would not heal Erestor, but it might slow the fading process enough for him to try.

* * *

Erestor was slow to rouse the next day. He had slept well, a luxury he was now unused to, and was reluctant to leave his spot, but somehow doubted Glorfindel would allow him to continue to sleep, in any case.

Rising, he took out some fruit from the food bag, eating silently while Glorfindel sang softly to himself. He finished the fruit. At about the same time Glorfindel finished the song, and turned to Erestor.

"Do you know any songs, Erestor?"

Erestor looked at him.

"Well, a foolish question, that," Glorfindel allowed. "One can hardly not pick up a song, here or there; but any that you particularly enjoy?"

**"No," **Erestor said flatly.

"It would be greatly helpful, Erestor, if you might tell me what you said."

Erestor glared. Glorfindel mentally congratulated himself.

"Is that the language the humans of your birth-place spoke?" Glorfindel coached.

**"Obviously."**

Glorfindel smiled. "I do not believe, Erestor, that this is profitable to either of us. I have a proposition."

Erestor raised an eyebrow stonily.

"We will have a _conversation. _You do not _have_ to answer my questions, but you must _speak - _" he added, quickly, " and in a language that I might understand."

"Or," Erestor said icily, "I can ignore you wholly."

"I think you will find that difficult. It may very well be several days before Elrohir and Aragorn are found, and a week or more before the others return. If you will converse with me today, I will not bother you tomorrow, and of course my terms work conversely; you are free to ask me any questions of your choosing."

Erestor watched the elf with narrowed eyes. He was not pleased with the proposition, but the thought of having tomorrow spent unharried by Glorfindel was not only tempting for his sanity, but Glorfindel's life, and a small thanks it would be to the kind Elrond if he returned to find that Erestor had killed the idiot Balrog-slayer.

"Very well."

Glorfindel's grin widened.

"Wonderful. Well... What are your parents' names?"

Erestor raised an eyebrow.

"No _looks, _speak!"

"I have already told you their names."

"Those were elvish names."

Erestor was silent for a moment, then; "Lily and James."

Glorfindel smiled easily. "Interesting."

"I have a question; why do you care to _know _my parent's names?"

"I find you interesting."

"Lies, Glorfindel? You find me pitiable, and yourself guilt-ridden. Do not seek to console me ere Mandos claims me so that you might feel the better of yourself."

"Asking your parents names may now be called 'consolation'?" Erestor was silent at that. "We are here together with little to do but speak. A question; why are you _against _answering my inqueries?"

"What reason do I have to wish to speak to you, much less bandy about such details of my life?"

"Are these secrets, then, the names of your parents? And the rest, as well, perhaps?"

"None but I know of them; if this makes these things secret, than yes."

"Secrets, dear Erestor, are quite unhealthy; why not make them known? Tell me, do you have no siblings? Have you never had siblings?"

"By blood, no."

"By blood? Than what of other siblings, of the heart?"

"Siblings of heart I have had, and siblings of the blade and war, but no more; mortals all were they, and those that did not fall through battle are now not so much as bones in the earth, in a distant place where I shall never again step."

"You left your home, then. Have you never wished to return?"

"I can not. The Valar themselves brought me here, and only they could take me home; but if home is where the heart is, then surely I have no home."

_The Valar? _Glorfindel made a note of that."Do you care not at all for Imladris, then? For those in the Vale?"

"Whom would I care for? What is Imladris but a place, another spot of land?"

"It is..." Glorfindel searched to find the words. "Comfortable, familiar...?"

"If _that _is the meaning of home, then it the second, but not the first." Yes, Glorfindel was likely going to be made uncomfortable by his answer; that was Erestor's intention.

Glorfindel predictably winced. He changed the subject. "Tell me of your friends."

Erestor raised an eyebrow again.

"When you were mortal."

_Red hair laughter brown hair books wands werewolf screaming_

"I had a best friend. I knew him for six years. He died. The end."

"My condolences," Glorfindel said. "Surely, however, there is more than that to say of him? I have known you for six years as well, and more besides, yet that does not earn me the name of friend."

"He was mortal."

"As you have said." Glorfindel didn't know why he asked this - surely it would not endear him to Erestor - but he also thought, strangely, that it would certainly be something Erestor would answer. "How did he die?"

Erestor said nothing. Glorfindel feared that he might have gone too far, then; "He was murdered, personally, by the dark wizard after me. Tortured to death, actually. A spell allowed us to see the whole thing. Sent to us so kindly was his severed head. It was spelled to keep screaming for eternity. His eyes were gouged out, and his jaw had been ripped away."

Glorfindel blanched a little. Erestor leaned back watched the clouds. Glorfindel thought that his mission to stop Erestor from dwelling on sad memories might just have failed.

To his surprise, Erestor spoke without prompting.

"He did not beg," Erestor said suddenly. "They would stop, they said, if he would but give them the satisfaction of seeing him plead for mercy, yet he did not. He was brave until the very end. Everyone in his family - they all were."

Glorfindel took a breath. "There were more of them?"

"Oh, yes. Two parents, seven children. Fell in love with the youngest, actually. I should have known better."

"Such things can not be changed by reason."

"That does not mean we can not try to change them. It was her brother who killed her, the third eldest... He said it was to get to me, but I think he always had resented the others. He was not so brave as the rest; his deceptive master killed him in the end, as well. He did beg."

Glorfindel wasn't quite sure how to respond to that.

"My condolences," he finally said again. "Were your parents - "

"Killed as well, when I had opened my eyes to the world for but twelve months."

"My condolences." The term began to feel awkward. "Did the other family raise you?"

"They did not. As I said, I knew them but six years. I went to my mother's kin, though kin they were in blood only, not manner, and detested all magic."

"Did they detest you?"

Erestor looked at him, his face strangely blank. "Am I not magic?"

Glorfindel looked away, unsure how to answer. "Were they mortal?"

"Indeed."

"That is well." Erestor raised both eyebrows at this.

Glorfindel decided to change the topic from Erestor's past. "Were you a diplomat as well as fighter in your land?"

This, at last, seemed to amuse Erestor slightly, to Glorfindel's delight. "Not at all. I was, actually, renowned for bluntness, lack of tact, bravado and brightness, and my foolishness and naivety."

Glorfindel had to laugh aloud at that; Erestor was the most pessimistic, serious advisor in Rivendell. "A hard thing to imagine," he said. "Though I suppose you were rather younger... How old might you be?"

"Now, that is not very polite; How old are you?"

"Myself? Including the time spent in the Halls of Waiting?"

"Including that."

"I was born early in the Years of the Trees, some sixteen thousand years ago.*" Glorfindel smiled. "You avoid the question, diplomat?"

Erestor raised an eyebrow. "I am 2,563."

Glorfindel was openly astonished. "So young! Why, barely are you the elder of Elrohir and Elladan!"

"Indeed."

_And many of those years, _Glorfindel thought, _I have tormented this one, little more than an elfling when I came to Rivendell - why, he would have been but some seventeen hundred years! Valar!_

Glorfindel decided to end the conversation there; he had much to think on. When Erestor realized the 'discussion' was for now finished, he moved away into a tree to watch the sky, Glorfindel watching him all the while and pondering.

* * *

*** Looked it up, Glorfindel was born in some year in the Years of the Trees, and even I don't know what year this fic takes place in, so its just an estimate - anyway I doubt he pays much attention to age after the first few thousand years. **

**Reviews?**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: As always, very sorry for the long interval. For the story... I'm thinking of changing the direction a little. Which will probably result in the story being a LOT longer than I planned, but I don't think I can do the story as I originally meant in any good or realistic fashion. Also, I'm sure some will wonder at the end of this chapter; Erestor will NOT be joining the fellowship at any point, or at least that's not in the plans (including my tenuous new plans).**

**Sorry about the chapter length, next should be longer.**

**Thanks to all who took the time to review! And everyone thank 'thelittlegreencat' for getting me to write more of this today. :)**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

True to his word, Glorfindel said not a word to Erestor as the the next day began, though he nodded in greeting as he awoke. But, unlike how Glorfindel had predicted, Erestor never grew bored enough to start a conversation, seeming content to stare at the sky and doze or think, much to his disappointment.

Erestor was, actually, thinking of yesterday himself. He had grown lax of his secrets approaching his death, he realized. But did it still matter, those secrets? Then again, did he really want to give Glorfindel the satisfaction of knowing more about him?

He did not. The thought of Glorfindel, _Glorfindel, _to be the one on this Middle-Earth who knew him best - that was sickening. No, he thought, fiercely. Tomorrow, Glorfindel would speak with him again, but this time he would have no such satisfaction.

_After thousands of years shall I die this way, wasting away all due to that arrogant blond, and I allow him to feel as though he has done some good, to further boost his ego, as I pass from this world because of his own doings - _

He thought, as he had so often lately, of the past. Was this his true nature, to stand aside and die? He had grown weak in the past centuries. The war had been something he had truly never healed from, wallowing in his misery. Before, he would never have tolerated something like this - he would have given Glorfindel as good as he got. He resented the elf-lord, had always done so, so where was the proof? His actions were more those of _fear _than hatred. He had faced far worse things than _Glorfindel._ He would _not _fear him.

He thought of all the things Glorfindel had done to him in the past centuries, and fury began to build within him during his inner rant. His mood was dark, but he did not notice that his skin began glowing palely, just a little.

* * *

Glorfindel approached Erestor the next day as soon as the other awoke. He had had a full day to think through what he had gleaned from his conversation with Erestor. He was determined to learn more today. Talking about problems, as Elrond always insisted, would greatly help a personally mentally - and from what he knew, Erestor hadn't talked about these issues for more than two thousand years.

He was slightly surprised, however, to be firmly rebuffed. He continued his tactics from two days before.

"You never did say where, precisely, you hailed from."

Silence.

"I... never knew quite how young you were. Barely the elder of Elrohir and Elladan, despite how much older you might seem."

He paused. Erestor began humming, inspecting his nails.

Glorfindel continued.

"How old were you when, as you said, the Valar 'took you here from your home'?"

Nothing.

"Erestor?"

Glorfindel waited as minutes ticked by, staring at the advisor. After a few minutes Erestor suddenly rose, nonchalantly, and began walking away, combing a hand through his hair, and then jumped into a tree with elvish grace. Glorfindel sighed.

He had a feeling he would be getting nothing more from Erestor today. Nonetheless, he continued to try, stalking the small elf through the trees. He was difficult to find, now stronger as he was almost completely healed. As he searched he asked questions aloud. Finally it seemed Erestor had given up, and he saw the other leap down from a tree. Grinning triumphantly, Glorfindel did the same.

"Ah! So, would you - "

Almost faster than Glorfindel's eyes could follow, Erestor whipped out a small sliver of wood from his pocket and pointed it at him tip-first.

"_Silencio!"_

Glorfindel was not making a sound, though his mouth worked and he _felt_ like he spoke. Alarmed, he grasped at his throat, which seemed umarred.

_What did you do? _He tried to say. Not so much as a squeek, but Erestor seemed to know what he had said.

"No need for concern. It will fade with time - unless I wish otherwise." Glorfindel blanched a little despite himself, and Erestor managed a sweet, unnerving smile, then leapt back into the trees.

* * *

He did, indeed, gain speech back within three hours, though he still reeled with the shock of what happened. That was _quite _a sudden transition, going from angsting to anger. But why had it occurred? Now able to speak again, he approached Erestor once more.

He opened his mouth.

"Are you truly so foolish?" Erestor snapped. Surprised, Glorfindel paused, and Erestor turned dark eyes on him. Not to be deterred, Glorfindel set his shoulders.

"What did - "

Erestor took out the small stick. Glorfindel hesitated, then ploughed on, changing his intended question. "Where did you learn to wield such magics?"

Lazily; _"Incendio."_

Glorfindel stumbled aside in an ungainly fashion as a small spurt of fire flew at him, though it vanished at a thought from Erestor as it went past him. More fire sputtered from the wood, and in a way most unbecoming an elf-lord Glorfindel dodged most of them, though two hit him squarely in the face, eliciting a yelp.

Apparently satisfied with that, Erestor stowed away the wand.

Glorfindel decided it might be prudent to execute a retreat for the time being.

* * *

Erestor felt momentarily pleased with himself, then almost immediately rather guilty. Could he not even say a word against _Glorfindel _without guilt? Cursed conscious!

Out of the side of his eyes he glanced at the aforementioned elf, who was staring broodingly into the trees... Well, his hair was a little singed on that side, but he did look fine. Erestor was somewhere between relieved and disappointed.

He fingered the ancient wand slowly, staring through it.

_We can expect great things from you..._

Truly, he had only done one thing that might be called 'great'.

_You-Know-Who did great things as well... Terrible, yes! ... But great._

He was... neither of those, he thought to himself. He was no longer the confident (if naive) child, determined in his goals, bold and brash, but innocent. Neither was he like his enemy, who he had been compared with many a time. He was changed, altered through long years. Now he was... he was Erestor, of Imladris. An advisor, content to wither in the swirling dust-plumes of the archives and scrolls of the library, to sit and write out reports and missives and orders as others went abroad and fought orcs and fell beasts for the protection of the Vale. He felt rather disgusted with himself at that thought.

There was no shame, he thought to himself, in a desk-job - so long as there was no war. But there was war brewing, a great war, and every last soldier was needed. And he continued writing letters and wallowing in the past.

The thought was singularly uninspiring, and he sighed quietly to himself. It was a depressing thought, how low he had come... but at the same time his mind rebelled. Advisor! He was no advisor, lest it be advice in the ways of war, perhaps. With his magic, he could do so much more...

He wanted... to help in the war. To help in the protection of Rivendell and Middle-Earth, to fight against the Enemy as he had once fought the dark forces in his distant past.

_Nostalgic, are we? _Erestor thought, bitterly. To fight! He shook his head. Why, he had been helpless in the last attack. He had gotten himself captured due to sheer foolishness, becoming panicked and forgetting his wand utterly in the orc onslaught. He would be but a burden on the battlefield, Erestor decided, but traitorous thoughts objected.

_You could train, _said one. _Next time you would not be surprised, _said another. _Train, fight, defend the borders of the Vale... make a difference..._

* * *

Glorfindel started as his sword suddenly thudded into the tree above his head, quivering as it embedded itself in the trunk. He looked at Erestor, baffled.

Erestor was holding his own sword, but the blade was carefully swathed in strips of fabric. "Spar," was all he said.

"I beg you pardon?"

"I have not fought in many a year. I have forgotten much. Will you spar?"

Succinct, but tersely polite, or as polite as Erestor was able to be, given his reluctance to speak at all.

Glorfindel was quiet a moment. Slowly he stood. "Your sword...?"

"Is poisoned."

It was covered, then, to not kill him accidentally. Well, that was... thoughtful?

CRASH

Erestor was slow in defense, but not very. He had a rather... _unique _style, quite unlike any Glorfindel had ever encountered. It bespoke of long experience, if from Erestor's slight uncertainty an experience from many years prior, yet it was not quite any style Glorfindel was familiar with. It only heightened his curiousity.

He was not precisely putting no effort into the fight - the strange style alone was enough to throw him off to an extent - but still it went without saying that he would emerge as victor, and once he thought it appropriate he took an opening, flicking the blade to send Erestor's spinning and to simulateously touch the tip to the hollow of Erestor's throat.

He held it there a single moment as Erestor froze, then slowly lowered it. Erestor retrieved his blade, then attacked him viciously.

He did not disarm Erestor this time, but did position the blade into a lethal position, and Erestor bowed slightly, acknowledging the loss. Then they went at it again.

Erestor was a proficient swordsman, much to Glorfindel's surprise. He could have rivaled some of Glorfindel's best. But Glorfindel had millenia behind him, and he was not head of Rivendell's forces for no reason. He was unrivaled in this by any other elf in any of the other elf-realms yet in Middle-Earth.

Yet Erestor was plainly displeased.

Finally he did not return to the sparring after his loss, instead staring down at the covered sword blankly.

"You fought well," Glorfindel offered.

"Yet not well enough." His voice was queer, blank and low.

"There is no shame in not besting me. Despite not even holding a military position, you are as skilled as some of my finest. "

"The ability to beat _some _matters little. I was not fighting them, I was fighting you. And had I been truly fighting you, I would be dead."

How was he to respond to that?

"But you were not," Glorfindel reasoned. "Were I too fight Mithrandir, I would fail. Shame is wasteful; there is always a greater fighter, somewhere."

"That is different."

"Is it?"

"Mithrandir would not defeat you with swordplay alone. He would use magic. I could easily do the same. I am talking just of swords."

"Why not use magic?" Glorfindel was puzzled. "If it is indeed so simple."

Erestor ignored him, continuing. "One must be prepared for all eventualites. I depend on my wand for magic. Therefore, if it is lost I am defenseless. I must have alternate means of defence."

"You seem proficient enough to face many orcs. Why should this matter, in any case? You are an Advisor. You have no need to fight. When we return, I imagine you shall do just as you have done. You are not expected to fight, that shall not change."

"Will it not?" Erestor asked.

"Should it be different?"

"If I am able to fight, so should I fight. Are we not in war?"

"You are no soldier."

"I was, and I could be again."

Glorfindel furrowed his brow. Erestor was becoming more and more perplexing. "Is that what you wish?"

"It is not what I wish, but what I must. I am able to fight." He looked at Glorfindel. "Therefore, I shall fight."

* * *

**Yeah, fighting, warriors, orcs and goblins and travelling and all that. On the bright side, I think I'll have enough fun writing Elrond's reactions when Erestor wants to fight that I might update sooner. :)**

**Review? **


	13. You want to what?

**A/NL Well, I was right, that was quicker. :)**

**Thanks to all reviewers!**

**Disclaimer; Do not own Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, nor any of the characters, places, items or ideas of these two, I make no money from this, etc. etc. etc.**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

"Spar."

"Spar."

"Spar."

It was about all Glorfindel heard from Erestor the next few days. He tried, and failed, in engaging the elf in conversation, but Erestor acted as though possessed. Glorfindel could not imagine how weary Erestor was, for the four days of near non-stop sparring had him ready to collapse, and he much more healthy than Erestor.

He heard the sounds of approaching hooves from far off - the others were coming back! Erestor, however, either didn't notice or didn't care. If anything, his ferocity seemed to increase.

The hoof-beats accelerated. It occurred to him that they likely heard the swords clashing, and were, logically, rather alarmed. Erestor took his second of distraction to push him back several steps. The horses, he saw out of the corner of his eye, had come into the clearing. He ducked a swipe from the sword, raising his own to hit it away. A few exchanges later and Erestor managed, for only the second time of the four days, to disarm him.

"Good job," Glorfindel managed wearily, retrieving his sword. He sheathed, rolling his neck. His arms were actually beginning to become _sore _from the abuse, and wasn't that a strange thought? Erestor had to be worse off, but hid it well. Glorfindel was ridiculously pleased at this - not that he hid it, but that he was _able _to.

Erestor was no longer fading.

Granted, in place of his sorrow there was now manic, obsessive behavior, but at least he was not _dying, _so that was the first step.

* * *

Elrond could barely follow the quick battle between Glorfindel and Erestor, though whether due to its speed or his own disbelief it wasn't certain. Where had Erestor learned to fight like that? _When _had Erestor learned to fight? Erestor never left Imladris, never sparred on the ground - what was this?

And then Erestor _disarmed _Glorfindel, defeated the best in Imladris. No one was infallible, of course. Some of the best swordsmen managed to defeat him in spars. Rarely. Very, very rarely. As in, it was managed once a year or so. Maybe.

Glorfindel, looking strangely disheveled, jogged over to the group with Erestor following, whistling over their two horses. Erestor, ignoring the baffled stares he received, calmly leapt upon his horse.

Elrond was quite unable to articulate a query.

Mithrandir's eyes gleamed.

Legolas, looking rather impressed but, not so familiar with the Advisor, said nothing on the subject. "If you are ready, shall we continue to Rivendell?" He asked.

Glorfindel nodded his agreement, springing upon his own horse, and Elrohir and Elladan exchanged disbelieving looks as they started to ride again.

Now _that _was interesting.

* * *

The meeting at Imladris went well enough, the two sides exchanging information and piecing together the actions and possible intents of the Enemy. Erestor was rather relieved that they did not need to go to Mirkwood, but especially that they did not need to deal directly with Thranduil. A good king, but rather... stubborn. And temperamental. And he _could _get offended rather easily.

Legolas was a good choice.

On the second day after the evening meal, Glorfindel was surprised when he was approached by Erestor once he was alone. His words - or word - made him understand.

A question; "Spar?"

* * *

"If that we could speak with the lords of men," Legolas lamented the third day. "In Gondor and Rohan men have taken up arms, yet long has it been since elves have been greeted in either place. If we could exchange information with them..."

"Could we not do so?"

It was Erestor who spoke, and the others looked at him in surprise around the council room. "Speak with men?" Asked one from Mirkwood. "How? Do you believe truly they will trust us? We have no dealings with men. In Rohan, so I am told, the men are fearful of the great Lady and Lord Celeborn and the Galadhrims; they will not take a party of elves kindly."

Erestor thought, with a pang, of Matthias and the Rohirrim. "You would be surprised, I think."

Glorfindel winced slightly, but nodded in agreement. "The Rohirrim may indeed be willing to speak, or at least some of them... It is not of the people we must speculate, but of the King of the Mark and the Steward of Gondor. What do we know of them? Will they be open to speech?"

"It would be folly to do otherwise," One of Elrond's other advisors, Trenik, noted. "In Gondor, certainly. They live bordering the Black Lands; they can not afford to turn away any information, and I am sure they will give us their knowledge in return, if it means having allies against the Enemy."

"That is not in question," said Erestor. "The question is if they will believe us to be servants of the Enemy."

A few of the elves of Mirkwood leapt up, offended, but Legolas held out a hand, signaling for them to calm. "He speaks honestly and rightly," Legolas told his people. "What reason have they to think otherwise? Would you not harbor such doubts of a band of men who would enter the trees of our home?"

The elves subsided reluctantly, taking their seats again, and Erestor nodded in thanks to Legolas. "I believe the best course would to send a few, certainly no more than half a dozen - less, if possible - into Gondor and Rohan. They will take small numbers as a sign of trust, and certainly we shall pose less a threat."

"Such a party would also prove less a threat to orcs," said Elrond wryly.

"We will have horses, orcs do not." Erestor dismissed.

"There will be open plains on the route to Meduseld," Glorfindel approved. "Orcs would be spotted from far off. They are not so foolish as to dare the lands of the horse-masters."

"Would that they were," Trenik agreed.

"Six, then." Elrond murmured. "Yes, that could work."

"Perhaps four?" Legolas offered. "Representatives numbering two each of the three elf-realms, aside from Cirdan's. The party could go first to the Golden Wood. I imagine the Lord and Lady would like to take part."

"Four, then." Elrond amended. "Diplomats, but also warriors, to brave such a journey."

"For Mirkwood Neorvik and myself?" Legolas suggested.

"Is that wise, Prince Legolas?"

"Father will not be pleased." Legolas shrugged. "But, politically, it is best. It shows our seriously Mirkwood is on this matter. If nothing else they will hesitate to fire upon one who claims to be a prince, which can only be to our advantage."

"I should hope that they would not fire either way, but I concede the point," Elrond said. "Glorfindel...?" Glorfindel nodded. "One other, than. Who else have I who is warrior and diplomat?"

"The twins are more inclined to swordplay," Glorfindel said. "Although I think either would do well enough."

"I hesitate to send either. Elrohir was injured in the orcs' holding. And Elladan would not, I think, suffer to leave him, or not without the greatest reluctance and anxiety. They are fine together, but seperated..."

"And Estel would be a poor choice for many reasons," said Legolas.

"Agreed," said Elrond emphatically. "Perhaps... Well, your second will be needed here, Glorfindel, but the third in our forces..."

"Is a terrible speaker," Glorfindel said passionately. "That would be _most _unwise, my lord."

Elrond considered the matter a moment, pursing his lips as his eyes swept through the room, considering his various advisors. None of them could wield a sword with enough skill to best the lowest of Glorfindel's troops...

"I shall accompany them."

Everyone turned to stare at Erestor.

"_What?" _Asked Elrond, incredulously. "Do you speak in jest?"

"Jest, my lord? It would not occur to me."

Well, that was true enough, but the mere idea...

"Why not?" Asked Legolas, truly puzzled. "I saw his sparring with Lord Glorfindel. He seemed a most proficient fighter - more than proficient."

A few of the Imladris inhabitants looked at Legolas as though he were mad.

"That expedition was the first I have seen you outside Imladris in over two millenia!" Elrond protested. "What is this? You are no swordsman."

"I was, and can be again," Erestor said, echoing his words of some days before. "And I have other ways of defense, as well."

"Such as?" Elrond demanded, still disbelieving.

"I can attest to that much," Glorfindel cut in, knowing what Erestor meant.

"I will not have you killed, Erestor! You are no soldier!"

"In Imladris, no, I have not fought; but I had a life before I came to the Vale, my lord. I dealt with worse than orcs, aye, and killed those who might slay the Nine with ease."

"Now you jest, or have lost your wits," Neorvik said sharply.

"He speaks truth," said Glorfindel. Or most likely, anyway. But he had a feeling that Erestor meant what he said. The magics used on him had certainly not been life-threatening, but he was quite certain that Erestor had not been putting much into it. It would be interesting to see just how much his magic could do.

Elrond, however, did not have the knowledge of Glorfindel, nor the unbiased view of Legolas.

"What type of fighting?" Elrond demanded. "You have told me yourself you did not fight in the armies of the war."

"That is true enough, but I fought other wars, my lord. For long years before I by chance met you and was invited to the Vale I wandered the wilds, and those were not kind years to the meek, I assure you."

"You were captured just days hence!" Elrond protested. "And still you say you could take on, of all powers, the _Nine?"_

"Actually..." He thought of his patronus. He knew that it was most useful against the Nazgul, from when he had once come across one in his wanderings. "The nine, with the help of some of my abilities, would be easier to fend off than a single orc."

Legolas blinked slowly at him. "Dear Lord Erestor, I mean no offence, but I believe that I might withdraw my earlier words. I, too, think you must be jesting, or else mad; not all the elves of this room could stand against a single of the nine and be assured of victory."

"And yet I could stand against all, and prevail; this I know."

"He speaks truth," Glorfindel said again.

"Fine!" Neorvik said, loudly, to rise above the rumblings of the elves. "Let us assume for a moment that Lord Erestor is, by some impossible means, able to hold off the Nine; what help would he be against the more probable threat of orcs? He was, as Lord Elrond said, captured just days ago."

"I was hardly fit during that encounter," Erestor said. "I was, actually, quite ill."

"Ill? Ill? You have been about that _Edain_ too long; your wits are addled to use such an excuse, forgetting that elves suffer no illness!"

"I am not all elf."

An uproar.

Glorfindel noticed that Mithrandir, silent, was smiling.

"Silence!" Elrond barked. The group subsided. "What is this _now?" _Elrond demanded. "Not all elf?"

"Less even then yourself, milord, though I do not believe that this was any malady of Man that I suffered, it must be said."

"Than what was it?" Neorvik asked, "That allowed such an _unparalleled" _this with heavy sarcasm "warrior such as yourself to be taken."

Erestor hesitated. Glorfindel was not quite sure how his assistance would be received, but he spoke nonetheless. "He was fading. Dying."

If there had been an uproar _before..._

This time Elrond did not quite the mass; he, too, was alarmed enough to forget himself. With a slow, unhurried sigh, Mithrandir deliberately rose to his feet, hefted up his staff, and hit it down with a loud, solid BANG.

Silence.

"Fading," Erestor agreed, apparently unfazed. "But no longer."

"Why...?" Elrond's previous concern and incredulity had vanished replaced with wide eyes and horror. "Fading? Fading... for how long?"

"Weeks before the trip began. I grew concerned, in fact, that I might not make it to Mirkwood. But, as I said, it has ended. I am in no danger."

"Elladan, Elrohir, Estel, and myself can attest he lay in sleep with eyes wide, as is the fashion of mortals and fading, though it was only days after that I realized he was fading. In any case..." He looked at Erestor, who avoided his gaze pointedly Firmly; "He will have no cause for fading in the future."

"And I prefer not to discuss the cause," Erestor added, still not meeting his gaze. "It is a private matter."

Elrond sat heavily in his chair, and others followed suit, staring at Erestor. He only raised his eyebrows.

"I think Erestor would be a fine addition to the party."

Everyone turned to look at Mithrandir.

"A fine addition," he said again. A smile hovered about his mouth.

"A demonstration, perhaps?" Glorfindel suggested, trying to break the uneasy atmosphere. "I can show you his skills, my lord."

Elrond stared at him uncomprehendingly a moment, then, slowly; "...No. No." He looked at Erestor very strangely. "Apparently there is much I do not know of you, Erestor."

"Indeed."

Elrond was quiet a moment. "You may go," he said abruptly. "Valar help us all."

"Perhaps a maia, in place of the Valar?" Mithrandir suggested. "Why, I haven't had any excitement in days." His eyes twinkled. "In any case, the men of Rohan and Gondor trust me, to an extent. It will at the least help, as Legolas put it, to have them 'hesitate to fire at us.'"

A few more details agreed on, and the meeting ended to be resumed the next day.

Elrond was glad the next was scheduled in the afternoon. That was a very, very fortunate thing, he decided, taking out a large bottle of Dorwinion. It took quite a lot to give an elf even a small hangover, but Elrond was determined to drink enough.

_Valar save him, I am sending Erestor to his death..._

* * *

**Review?**


	14. Chapter 14

**A'N: Well, so much for updating more often. Sorry about that! Also, not sure who king of Rohan would be during this, since I'm not quite sure when I'm dating this, due to pure laziness and confusion when trying to research the timelines. So, let's all assume Theoden is king. :)**

**And thanks to all reviewers for comments and inspiring me to not be so lazy. **

**...Gr. I was just about to post this... Then I realized I mentioned that Mithrandir was joining the group, but I forgot that writing this, which is kind of pathetic... So now I have to edit the whole chapter. Gah! So, don't be surprised if there isn't much Mithrandir in this one, I kind of just threw him in places...**

**ALSO. I know it seems to be going fast in this chapter, but not much to write of this part of the journey. Sorry.**

**

* * *

****Chapter 14**

Glorfindel approached Erestor as the last council ended, the various members drifting apart. "Erestor, would you - " Erestor slipped away between others, and Glorfindel sighed slightly. It seemed he was only good for a sparring partner.

* * *

Elrond caught Erestor as he attempted to leave this time. "If you would?" He asked quietly. Inclining his head silently, Erestor stopped and waited as the room cleared, face blank and unrevealing. Elrond waited with rare impatience. At last the room emptied.

"Did I hear rightly?" Elrond asked. "Truly, you were fading?"

It could not be denied now, certainly, and Erestor cursed Glorfindel inwardly for speaking of such. His heritage was one matter, but this...

"Yes, my lord, Glorfindel spoke truly."

Elrond took a slow breath, looking at Erestor, face pale. "And you spoke of it to no one?"

"Should I have? What use would such council bring me? It would have changed nothing."

"You left on such a perilous journey as one to Mirkwood whilst _fading?"_

"In that, my lord, perhaps my judgement failed me. It was irresponsible, that, leaving it to fate whether or not I would have made it to Mirkwood at all. I should have refused to leave." Erestor looked at him somberly, but before he could continue Elrond shook his head, rather aghast.

"That is not at all what I meant!" Elrond protested. "Leaving in such a state was dangerous, Erestor."

"With respect, Lord, I had less at stake than another might have, though I should not have endangered the mission." Erestor continued before Elrond could dispute this. "If you are concerned over the journey to Rohan and Gondor, I assure you I am quite capable."

"So you say. While I can not dispute that your sparring is competant enough, based on what little I saw, I must confess to some wariness over this matter..."

"In regards to swordfighting, my lord, I am sure that many of Glorfindel's men could defeat me with enough ease; I merely gained a few wins through luck during our sparring. However, I do have some additional skills which others do not possess."

"On which you shall not elaborate," Elrond noted. "Yet still you expect me to believe your words."

"Do you think that I speak untruths?"

"No. No. I know you to well for that."

"You thought you knew me," Erestor corrected. "Can you truly now say so?"

Erestor left Elrond to dwell on that, a pang of guilt hitting him as he walked away. Elrond had done him no ill, and he knew the elf-lord would give himself no small blame for his almost-fading. And certainly he had not helped the matter. Still, what comfort could he have given?

* * *

Erestor, Glorfindel, Mithrandir, Neorvik, and Legolas departed early the next morning, with Erestor once more riding Rana, and Glorfindel on Asfaloth, who had wandered back to the Vale. Neorvik was giving Erestor skeptical glances as they started out, though Legolas seemed to be fine with his presence. Mithrandir rode at the front, humming happily. Erestor trailed the other three, as usual, feeling uncomfortable in close proximity with the two foreign elves. Glorfindel kept to the front, exchanging information with Legolas, discussing at first the numbers of orcs and spiders in Mirkwood, then switching slowly to less serious, more mundane topics. Erestor listened as he rode, filing away any relevant information.

Their pace was quicker than that of the previous expedition to Mirkwood. There was little rest and the horses were pushed forward. Really, there was no need for urgency, or at least none that they knew of; but that could change quickly. There was no point in taking chances.

In a relatively short amount of time they had crossed the mountains by way of the High Pass. They were just coming out on the east side of the Misty Mountains when they were engaged in the first attack of their journey.

If they were men, Erestor reflected ironically, the small band would likely have not risked an attack, but no orc or goblin could resist a chance at killing an elf.

Still, at least one good thing came from the short skirmish, aside from the elimination of thirteen goblins; Neorvik had at least been assured that he was not completely helpless. Erestor was not quite sure why the elf held him in such disdain; perhaps he had been speaking to some of the elves of Rivendell, who had given their opinions of Erestor's skills.

Erestor, as always, kept to the back now as they rode after leaving the mountains. Today, however, Glorfindel slowed his pace to fall back with him. Erestor eyed him. For a time the balrog-slayer seemed content to be silent, and Erestor of course did not attempt to socialize. Neorvik and Legolas exchanged a word or two, but between Glorfindel and Erestor the day was spent in silence.

Mithrandir kept humming.

* * *

The days riding were spent in quiet contemplation from Mithrandir, who spoke rarely. Legolas, Neorvik, and Glorfindel spoke at times; other times Glorfindel rode silently by Erestor, who came to accept his presence, or ignore it, really. Erestor himself politely rebuffed all attempts from Legolas and the less-persistant Neorvik to talk. Glorfindel and Mithrandir, it seemed, knew better than to even try.

* * *

The next attack came near the Gladden River, and this was considerably larger, the group considerably harder to dispatch. It was during this that the others had a glimpse of Erestor's other 'skills'.

There were some forty orcs, if not more, against the five of them. Thankfully, however, none of the orcs had arrows, only carrying their usual mishapen weapons. Still, though, the orcs had hidden in wait by a hill-side, and the elves were too close to merely pick off all the orcs at their leisure; there was only time enough for a few to be killed in that manner before the orcs fell upon them.

Erestor's heart pounded in his ears. They were skilled in fighting, but at some point the sheer numbers would kill them, and now the orcs began drawing apart their horses, which, though they were trained well and were intelligent, were still fallible. All five were making a valient effort, but they couldn't last long like this. Ducking against Rana to avoid a sword-lunge, Erestor whipped out his wand with his free hand, pointing at the orc who had attacked him.

He would not use the killing curse, but others would do just as well. "_Diffindo!" _The cutting curse sliced off the orcs head; black ichor spurted out as the limp body fell. _'Diffindo, diffindo!" _He aimed at a few more, then was able to look up as the orcs drew back from him. He aimed.

Legolas' steed reered back as fire sprang before it , spreading in a instant to surround his horse, but not harm the two. Similar circles came about the other three pairs, and lastly Erestor protected himself. The orcs roared in confusion. One caught on fire and began to flee, screeching, but Legolas regained his wits enough to draw his bow and shoot at him.

From there, the fight was over quickly.

Even as the horses whinnied in terror of the flames the fire suddenly disappeared. Legolas and Neorvik were baffled, but Glorfindel merely very impressed. "Well done, Erestor," he commented, causing the Mirkwood elves to look up sharply. Mithrandir said nothing, eyeing Erestor knowingly.

Erestor did not respond, his wand already stowed away. His arm had been cut, but he would not heal it magically. He would limit his magic use, as he had always done. Unperturbed by his silence, Glorfindel looked at the others.

"Were any of you harmed?" They responded in the negative, still watching Erestor. "Very well. Let us continue."

Glorfindel rode beside Erestor, as he had often during the past week or so, in silence. Legolas and Neorvik continuously exchanged troubled looks, but did not yet mention the odd scene, following Mithrandir's lead.

* * *

That night on Erestor's watch the elf considered that fight. He had not need to use anything more than the weakest, most elementary of spells, but what if that was all he was capable of? Really, he had, of course, never learned much at all, with his schooling interrupted. He had learned a few spells while in hiding with his friends and the Order members, but even to him these memories were faint, unlike the visions of blood and gore that had so often haunted him in the past. They could be recalled, of course. He was an elf now; he could remember everything, even from his human years, but it was one thing to be able to remember something; it was another entirely to be able to instinctively use that information in battle.

Considering this, he concluded that his repertoire of spells he might use in battle were limited to some simple things such as levitating, fire of course, cutting, stunners, paralyzation, explosions, summoning, and, if truly necessary, the killing curse. He could silence, as well, though he didn't know what use that could be. And he had his patronus, of course. He was rather certain the only shield he knew was only useful against spells, so that was useless. He would be able to use more, if in less of a hurry, but that list just about summed up what he could do on short notice.

It was, he decided, rather pathetic.

Perhaps he would try and recall other spells later, familiarize himself with them, to allow himself to have more effective methods at hand. Things like fire would not be useful on a large scale, or if the enemy had arrows. Explosions... Well, that was probably just plain unwise. Cutting was fine, but there was less control there; once the curse was let off it could not be stopped, and could hit a companion who stepped in the way, a reason he had never been fond of arrows. Paralyzing and stunning, he had found in the past, lasted only a few seconds on orcs. And killing, well... He'd just prefer to not use that at all. And there was, after all, the same problem as with the cutting curse.

Yes, perhaps it would be wise to think of some more useful spells... But, fingering the cold wood of his wand, flashes of memories flickered through his mind - and he knew he couldn't bring himself to recall some of those memories.

But others... Why not? Just the early ones, he assured himself, happy and careless school-memories. He would go over the memory even as he took his watch, and come morning would be able to use the spell without even a thought.

And so, for the first time in centuries, he purposely allowed himself to dwell on his memories.

Much later before waking the others, Erestor snuck away. He took his wand out, magicked ropes around a rock, and smiled. Pausing, he frowned. After a moment, he recalled the spell, vanished the ropes, and for once did not totally shy from the memories he accessed in remembering that spell. He tucked away the wand, then roused the others.

* * *

The rest of the way to Lothlorien was largely uneventful, save a small fight with four orcs, which hardly even counted as a fight. Still, the three battles had also indicated a worrying increase in orc activity. The pace of the company increased.

They were welcomed into the city, the elves who greeted the four practically hanging off Glorfindel and Legolas, and gathering about Mithrandir like over-eager puppies. Erestor had never before journeyed to Lothlorien, and the sight was breathtaking, though he thought he might just prefer the Vale still. Living forever here would be too surreal for his tastes, too... bright? Too dreamlike, he decided. They were taken to Lady Galadriel herself - and Lord Celeborn, but Erestor had long since noticed that he was rather forgotten in the shadow of his wife. He didn't seem to mind, though, and Erestor could understand that. They explained their purpose for coming. The Lord and Lady admitted to news of orc activity being reported, but their borders had not been infringed upon, and as the people of 'Lorien were rather reclusive they could not be so certain of the Enemy's growth. Still, they promised to send two of their people with the five emissaries.

They were led to talans in the trees, to sleep. The next morning they were joined by the two Galadhrim, Lord Feldir and Narid. These two, Erestor noted, were much more merry than his present companions; truly Lothlorien had been unmarred by the Enemy's forces.

They continued, crossing the Entwash (they had crossed a few rivers now, and Erestor was liking it less and less) and he and Glorfindel had to convince the two Mirkwood elves to not detour to Fangorn Forest as they skirted the wood's edge. The two Galadhrim, who may have been there in the distant past, looked a little smug.

Soon after the crossing the seven heard the distant pounding of many hoof-beats. Pleased, Mithrandir signaled for them to wait, gesturing Glorfindel to the front and going to the back to watch the meeting. The horses halted, sides rising lightly. From the sound of the approaching beats, they were in the path of the horses, so they waited for the Rohirrim to come to them.

_Rohirrim. _Like Matthias, Sedge - all the dead soldiers who had done nothing but try to help a wounded foreigner... Erestor's stomach churned. It seemed Glorfindel was having similar thoughts, for he unconsciously nudged his horse closing to Erestor, exchanging a look with him.

The hoofbeats turned to a dull roar, but with the rolling plains of Rohan the approaching group could not be seen. Suddenly they came over the hill, a dark undulating mass of horses. Without hesitation the horses split in two, circling around the seven elf-horses, the lines merging until the Rohirrim came to a halt, a circle of some eighty formed around them. The Rohirrim waited patiently as one dismounted from a pitch-black horse, perfectly relaxed. The man, presumably their leader, approached them.

"Greetings. I am Elamar, son of Efalain, of the eighth eored of the Mark. What business have you in Rohan?"

The six elves were hooded, Mithrandir's head bowed low to cover his face. Glorfindel dismounted as well, and the others followed suit. He flipped back his hood, and Elamar's eyes bulged as he saw Glorfindel's face - and his ears.

The elf lord inclined his head. "Greetings Elamar, son of Efalain. I am Lord Glorfindel of Rivendell, Chief Seneschal to Lord Elrond. Lord Erestor, Chief Advisor to Lord Elrond." Erestor put down his hood, nodding. "Prince Legolas of Mirkwood." Poor Elamar was looking a little pale. "Neorvik, also of Mirkwood. Lord Feldir of Lothlorien, and Narid, also of Lothlorien." The silence was thick. "We seek counsel with the King of the Mark."

A pause. "Greetings, my lords, it is an honor. And your last companion..."

"I think you know me already," Mithrandir's deep voice rumbled, amused.

"Gandalf, forgive me." Elamar was silent a beat, and then bowed low. "A curious thing indeed, yet it is not my place to question those who seek private counsel with the King. Very well. We shall escort you to the Golden Hall, honored guests."

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**Review? And don't worry, Legolas and Neorvik at least haven't forgotten about the magic, and Gandalf's playing all-knowing maia, even if he doesn't know as much as he thinks he does here. :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Sorry! And I know a longer chapter would be expected after so long, but... Eh. But I think I know where I'm going from here - hopefully - so there should be a few more chapters, at least, in decent time before I hit one of my irritating blocks. Thanks to all readers, and reviewers especially, for putting up with this!**

Chapter Fifteen

The first night the group spent with the Rohirrim was rather tense, and quite different than Erestor's previous experience. The _Edain _all seemed rather uneasy in the company of elves, much less such important ones. Not at all like Matthias' eored, and they had known he was a Chief Advisor. Maybe it was their number. Or perhaps, in Erestor's case, it had simply been impossible to be intimidated by someone you had met unconscious.

Mithrandir, unfortunately, was not much help in this area, as he seemed content to wander off and smoke his disgusting pipe. It seemed _Edain _found this practice as deplorable as the Eldar, so that was something.

Unfortunately socializing, Erestor knew, was an important aspect of diplomacy. It would help if the leader of this eored and the others gave their approval to the party of elves. Slightly resignedly, Legolas and Neorvik wandered over to speak with a young soldier. Feldir and Narid looked at the Rohirrim with slight disdain and sat slightly apart from the group eating their evening meal, and none approached them. Sighing, Glorfindel's eyes zeroed in on Elamar, and he looked at Erestor pointedly. Erestor, mentally grimacing, inclined his head and joined Glorfindel to approach the Rohirrim, keeping a fair distance between the two elves. It seemed he and Glorfindel, mostly the latter, had been elected unofficial heads of their small diplomatic party, so it was up to them to make nice with the highest-ranking person here.

Elamar straightened as they approached. "My lords," he said, inclining his head. "Was there something you required?"

"Information, if you have it." Glorfindel said, inclining in own head in greeting. "You have a sizable group here. Are there truly so many orcs roaming Rohan?"

"We set out not long ago, and have already found four different groups, of varying size." Elamar told him. "None nearly so large as this, but there is safety in numbers. Have you been similarly troubled on your journey?"

"As yourself, with small skirmishes only." Erestor said.

Elamar nodded. "My lords, has your appearance anything to do with the eored sent to Rivendell?"

"Sent to Rivendell?" Erestor echoed, thinking of that smaller group.

"A eored of some twenty was sent to find your people, and ask similar questions of your knowledge of orcs, so I am told. Lothlorien is closer, of course, however..." His eyes flickered to Feldir and Narid. "Well, enough fear the rumors of the Witch of the Wood, and I am sure I need not explain my reasons for not sending any to dark Mirkwood. The eored departed some time ago, but have yet to return."

"No such eored has entered Rivendell to my knowledge," Glorfindel evaded.

"That is troubling." Elamar said, frowing lightly. His eyes flickered up to check the sky. The sun was sinking, the sky a deep crimson. "We will ride some time longer, then we must rest. Come."

* * *

The Rohirrim rode with them to the small capital of Edoras. The city was pleasant enough, but some of the people watched them warily as they rode through the streets, and Erestor noted that even here, in the capitol, some wore ragged clothing, and their faces were pinched with hunger. Edoras' people were not unaffected. Erestor found the watching children of most interest, as did the other elves. He could not recall ever seeing any elf-children. The elves had stopped having children many years ago. He recalled news of a birth in Lothlorien and several births in Mirkwood, who most often lost its people, but those few were the only elflings born in his time on Arda. The thought was strange.

Glorfindel seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Children," he breathed, making Elamar glance at him. "Dozens... I have not seen an elfing since... I believe I last saw young Legolas here at his birth, nearly some three thousand years ago... Or are the twins younger? Fortunate indeed are the Second-born to be so graced."

Elamar did a double take at Glorfindel, then at Legolas, who looked perhaps twenty. Even that was merely due to things such as posture and bearing. Elves, Erestor had read, were permanently frozen at what was about sixteen to a human. It took long years for a face to be lined even slightly, though Elrond was something of an exception as a half-elf, and an elf had to _choose _to really age, which some, but not many, did.

Guards stopped them outside the Hall of Meduseld, and the seven laid down their weapons. Erestor had only his sword and a plain bow to set down, but after slight hesitation he also withdrew his wand and surrendered it, ignoring the guard's odd look. Even Mithrandir consented to surrendering his staff. Neorvik's gaze lingered on Erestor, unreadable.

The king of the Mark was fairly young, standing straight and tall as the elves entered, yet still Erestor thought he looked old, with a broad body so contrasting the slender elegance of elves. The leaders of the elves, Galadriel and Celeborn and Elrond himself, and even the sober King Thranduil, were all in their own right beautiful; this king, while strong in bearing, seemed totally plain.

Or perhaps this was merely the haggard set to his features? He looked weary, even for an _Edain - _but then, this was not a pleasant time to be king.

Glorfindel gave the man-king a shallow bow - too shallow for a king, really, but Glorfindel wasn't exactly of low importance himself. The king, however, to Erestor seemed to take this as an intentional affront, from the narrowing of his eyes. He stifled a sigh. Elves never seemed to understand the ways of the _Edain. _

After the formal greetings; "What has brought such a group of elves to the halls of men? And you as well, Gandalf?" This said stiffly.

"Nothing good, I fear." Glorfindel informed the king informally. "We come to seek what knowledge you might have of the…" A barely noticeable pause, as Glorfindel realized Theoden likely did not know of their suspicions of the late Necromancer of Dol Goldur, or that there was more to the orc numbers than one might assume. "…movements of orcs. They are growing in number and strength, as you have undoubtedly noticed. Even on the way here we were besieged on multiple occasions."

A little of Theoden's coldness fell to interest. "Yes, they have been particularly bothersome of late. And they may have some motive beside their usual barbaric tendencies." Glorfindel stood straighter. "They have been making off with our horses. Not so queer, that; orcs shall eat whatever is about, our fine mares and stallions included, but it has become clear there is more to this then food. Unless they have acquired a taste for black fur, I suppose."

"Only the black are taken?" Legolas asked with surprise.

"Mostly. Some others as well, but these taken for food, I think, or so I would say from the corpses the herders find. But not a bone will you find when a black horse goes missing."

"Surely," Feldir said, "they can not mean to ride the unlucky beasts."

"No horse would consent to bear an orc, if even it could," Glorfindel denied.

Feldir looked somewhat troubled, Erestor thought. Something was just at the edge of his mind, stirring in his memory… Black horses… Hm.

"Well, such grim discussions can wait a time." Theoden decided. "We shall speak more at length, but I imagine you are weary…"

* * *

Theoden had summoned his advisors and military leaders closer by; they would be meeting late the next evening, while one of the servants showed them about the Golden Hall. They returned to rooms provided for them, after a time, and their weapons were returned for the moment. Legolas and Neorvik, again, showed interest in Erestor's wand. When the Lothlorien elves were preoccupied, they approached Erestor before he could enter his rooms.

"Might we ask a word of you, Lord Erestor?"

Erestor politely inclined his head, gesturing them into the aforementioned quarters. "I may have no gift of foresight, yet I would think your intentions obvious. You are yet curious of the events of the orc attack, though that was - "

"It was a time ago, yes," Legolas said. "Yet we have come to no conclusions which would seem viable, and curiosity is a hard thing to stifle."

"Most importantly," Neorvik added coldly, "does there exist any slight possibility that this will endanger our mission, or mar our intentions?"

"I can think of no such way it should," Erestor responded evenly.

Legolas inclined his head, then seemed to enter an internal debate on whether or not to prod for more, if it would do no harm. Erestor was glad that someone, at least, respected privacy. Neorvik was not so kind. "That is all good and well, yet it explains no more the events of that day. Elaborate."

Erestor raised an eyebrow, eyeing him coldly at the abrupt words, and then replied. "Magic."

"…Magic."

Erestor met Neorvik's gaze evenly. Legolas looked interested despite attempts to seem otherwise. "Of what sort? Never have I heard of a Maia in the guise of an elf."

"Are there not those among your own people, Prince Legolas, with some skill in this area?"

"Some skill, perhaps; not a dozen nor a hundred of my people in synergy could accomplish what you did."

"Maiar," Erestor said, "Are sent by the Valar to Middle Earth." A pause. "In that, I suppose I am a Maia. But I have not been sent here for any purpose but to live my life. I may be called… Istari, perhaps, Wizard, but I am no true Maia."

Legolas seemed rather nonplussed by this 'explanation'.

"I possess Magic, and the knowledge to wield it to an extent," Erestor summarized. "Does that satisfy you?"

"By what means did you acquire this knowledge?" Neorvik demanded.

"Does this matter?"

"Do you ask I? I can not determine as much without knowing."

"I was taught by an older wizard, near the beginning of this age; I have seen no need to use these skills for thousands of years, and hopefully shall not need them for thousands more. Does _that_ satisfy you?"

"It does not. Why - "

"One is entitled to their own secrets, Neorvik." Legolas chided.

Neorvik pursed his lips, eyeing Erestor haughtily for a moment, then gave a curt bow to Legolas, pointedly ignoring the advisor. "Of course, my prince."

Legolas did not look entirely pleased, but turned from Neorvik to Erestor,eyes somewhat thoughtful. "I do apologize for the intrusion, Lord Erestor. If you will excuse us, we shall return to our quarters."

* * *

Erestor was woken by shouting.

He paused long enough to grab his weapons before bolting from his rooms toward the source of the noise. He skidded to a halt as he rounded a corner, coming upon a group of servants and guards about a fallen man on the ground. His hair was light, long, done in a style suggesting the wear of a warrior; his eyes were light amber, awake and keen; and in his side was an elf-arrow.

Those bright eyes were fading, but he shakily looked at Erestor, then at Glorfindel, Legolas, Mithrandir, and the others as they entered. Mithrandir came to his side, but life was fading from the man, blood pooling about him in the royal halls of Meduseld, where guards were at every entrance.

He lifted a finger, shakily, and pointed at the group of the Eldar.

"_The elves," _he rasped, coughing wetly. The people gathered about went silent. "_That arrow - "_

A healer bolted onto the scene as his head dropped back to the floor. The man stilled.

Chaos.

Erestor was grasped on either side by guards, outraged _Edain _grabbing the others as well. Mithrandir was left alone, trying to stop the enraged Men as the elves were pulled away.

* * *

Life was fading in the guard as the elves came into view. Alarm filled the virtuous man. No - arrow - the king would think -

He had to warn the elves - they were being set up -

"The elves - " He struggled for breath, vision failing - but he had a duty, a duty, it repeated like a mantra. He had to warn the king of their traitor, it wasn't the elves' fault -

"The arrow - "

Strength failed him. As his head sank to the floor, the last part of his consciousness mourned; and then he was lost.

* * *

**I'll try and get the next up sooner. Sigh.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

**Thanks to all reviewers for giving their opinions, and, ah - So so so sorry! Been crazycrazy busy, but I wasn't expecting to be so long. It's rare I even recall this piece... But I really don't have excuses. *Hides***

* * *

"I was not aware Meduseld had dungeons," Feldir said lightly.

Neorvik sent him a dark look.

"Did no one recognize the make of the arrow?" Glorfindel asked briskly, even as he peered about the dank walls of their small room. They were underground, the walls simple dirt, but the only door was firm iron. There would be no way out lest they be soon released. "'Twas not mine own; and Erestor carries none."

"It looked of my make," Legolas said, quirking an eyebrow.

Glorfindel looked at him.

"I hope you do not truly think I should do such a thing," Legolas protested, surprised.

"I do not," Glorfindel admitted. "Neorvik - "

"My arrows are of different make," Neorvik said, casting him a cold glare at the implication. "As are those of Feldir and Narid."

"A set up, then," Glorfindel concluded wearily.

"Not so," Neorvik told him. "There is another possibility, one which seems to me most likely; but it is my belief you shall not take so kindly to the idea."

"All options should be considered," Glorfindel denied. "What, then, if not a Man's ruse, could have caused the guard's death?"

"An elf."

"Have we not a moment ago denied the possibility? Unless you would suggest your master capable of treachery, or having been possessed."

"I am capable of both," Legolas interjected wryly, uncomfortable with the tension, "but I shan't be accused of either, I think, by any with a whit of wisdom."

"I do not accuse my leige, no," Neorvik said. "What of the magic-user?"

"Mithrandir?" Glorfindel was baffled.

"No. The other - the advisor."

Eyes turned to Erestor.

"Nay," Glorfindel refused immediately. "Not Erestor."

"And why not he?"

"He would scarcely be capable - and for what reasons should he kill the guard?"

"For what reasons would any of we here assembled? None plain or obvious; unless one is in secret a pawn of Sauron."

Glorfindel leapt to his feet, enraged; Legolas rose swiftly, holding out a hand. "Calm yourself," he commanded. Glorfindel bristled, but did not move, heeding the order of the young prince. "Neorvik, that was ill done." He turned severe eyes upon his companion. "There is no place for such unfounded accusations."

"Unfounded? Can you think of another reason?" He swept his hand in a broad gesture toward Glorfindel. "Even this one, it is said, who now rises in defence of the advisor was known in the past to accuse him of dark workings - "

"And I have seen that I was wrong," Glorfindel snapped. Erestor rather thought that Glorfindel was still just guilty for nearly killing the elf, but held his tongue, curious as to Neorvik's reasons. How did he manage so unwittingly to convince others of his evil nature? He shook his head.

"He has been very evasive about his magic," Neorvik said - and Erestor nearly banged his head against the wall at a sudden realization.

"Magic," he said suddenly. The others turned to look at him. "Nearly I had forgotten - " He took out his wand. "I can take us from here, should all agree."

"I do not," Neorvik persisted. "By what devilry do you draw your strength? Not Mithrandir himself could take us from here so simply."

Erestor grew weary of discussion of magic. "Aye, perhaps not. His is a different discipline then that which I was taught. It is of little importance at the moment - "

"I disagree - "

" - so I ask, shall we flee or attempt to persuade the king of our innocence?"

"I fear the likelihood of the latter is not in our favour," Narid said, darting glances between the Imladris and Mirkwood elves with unease. "Yet the former shall defeat our purpose here, and surely leave us unwelcome in Rohan either way; and I fear our chances of finding welcome in their ally of Gondor shall not be well."

Neorvik pointed at Erestor. "I say it is he who is the cause of this! He is a spy!"

Glorfindel took a step toward the other, agitated. "Cease this foolishness! He is no more a spy than I. This is nonsense; we were all selected as the trusted of our sovereign's to act in their stead. No one here now is capable of that which you accuse."

The irony was not lost on Erestor.

_My staunchest supporter is Glorfindel, _he thought. _Valar save me._

"Calm," Legolas ordered. He turned to Erestor. "What is this of an escape?"

"I can take us from here easily enough with magic," he said. He wished apparation worked in Middle-Earth but of course that was too convenient. He suspected that magic-users of old had put up something similar to wards to block modes of travel such as his in war-time, and they had never faded. The magic of this world was remarkably enduring, he had found. "It will not be so difficult, and there should be no loss of life; further it will be no great burden to retrieve our supplies. We could be from this place in but an hour."

Glorfindel shook his head, dragging his glare from Neorvik. "No. If absolutely necessary, it may yet come to such a thing; yet as it stands we will, surely, be granted the right to a full inspection on the matter by the king. Our standings, alone, would ensure his full caution in this matter; he would hardly incite war by holding hostage esteemed representatives of the three great elf-realms," he reasoned.

"Perhaps," said Erestor. "But man can be hasty as are their lives. And if he cares most for justice, he may see us dealt with disregarding circumstances, whatever the retributions. In any case I do not think it would take much provocation for war with these humans; they are welcoming, but already wary. They are already hostile, yet they do not know our hidden people's numbers, and in haste and anger may presume us of no threat, and do as they will."

"He would not risk war," Glorfindel protested. "Whatever his beliefs of our numbers, not for this."

"He is young. The young are idealistic, quick to anger, to mete out punishment; whatever his blood I can not think he would be any different."

"He has a responsibility to his people, and the council - "

"The council will be disregarded with the arrogance of youth; and the people will, at least at first, demand blood for that of their own. He needs no proof of our guilt; he is king. His word is law."

Glorfindel clearly found this matter troubling, and fell silent in thought. Neorvik spoke then, his anger no lesser; "Will we truly listen to this one? See, even now he scorns the words of one of the Wise; he would have us flee, spoil our tenuous relations with Rohan - and why not? For what reasons would he have to seek otherwise? Indeed, who is to say that was not his purpose from the beginning?"

Erestor narrowed his eyes. "You accuse me so blatantly of subterfuge, Neorvik? Can you not pause to listen to wisdom? Your anger clouds your logic; you know - "

"I know only that there is much of you we do _not _know," Neorvik bit out sharply. "The _recluse_ diplomat, suddenly taking a queer interest in a mission outside his territories, which immediately goes astray - "

"That is not - "

"The recluse _diplomat, _who shows skill with a blade and possession of a hitherto unseen skill in fell _magics - "_

"Fell? Would you dare - "

"What reason have we to trust you?" Neorvik said. "This whole business seems very queer to me; am I alone in this? Surely you think the same, my prince? Narid, Feldir?"

Erestor, too, looked at the rest automatically; but he was dismayed to see doubt in their eyes. "Erestor, it must be conceded that this _is _a very strange occurrence," Narid said, carefully. Feldir was silent and watchful as ever. "Dear advisor, humour us, please, would you not consent the answering of a few short questions - "

"I can scarcely believe my ears! Surely - "

"Erestor," Legolas said quietly, "perhaps you do have some matters to explain."

Erestor was outraged and indignant; before he could speak, however, Glorfindel came from his brooding silence to interrupt. "End this fool's hunt. You will find no ill will in Erestor, nor the capacity for such evil. He is not the one who has killed the human. Can we not agree on this much? He is the trusted of Lord Elrond, and there is no basis to your accusations, Neorvik, but paranoia and petty dislike."

"And the corpse of a dead man."

"Slain by whom we know not; but I can say that it was _not _Erestor."

"He - "

"_Erestor," _Glorfindel interrupted with venom, "is the trusted advisor of Lord Elrond; surely you do not accuse _him _of pandering to the Dark Lord?"There was a tense pause.

Erestor found he was beginning very much to dislike all the different dark lords. If ever he was brought before the Valar again he would ask to enter a world _without _them, thank you.

"His involvement in no way reflects on Lord Elrond," Neorvik said after a laden pause. "You are deflecting, Lord Glorfindel; are you not curious as to the past of this mysterious advisor?"

"Curious, yes; but not so as to accuse him of _serving the Lord of Mordor," _Glorfindel hissed. "This insult will not go ignored."

"Insults! I care not for insults; he is a servant of the Deceiver!"

"Enough of this! I will not - "

"Be silent."

The others quieted immediately a the low words. Erestor looked about at the others, who watched him, four accusing, weary, apologetic and suspicious in differing degrees, one laughably protective. He took a pregnant pause, mulling over in his head what to say.

"I am no servant of Sauron, Neorvik of the Dark Wood," he said finally. "I am servant to none but myself now, though I respect the word and being of Elrond; but I would never lower myself to work for such as Sauron. I would surely forsake my life before meeting such an existence."

"Words mean little to me. What proof have you?"

The air was heavy, grim. "What proof would you have?"

"Anything to know that you speak truly. An explanation of that which you can not justify; _why. _Why are you here, on this mission?"

"The same reason as you."

"I am here to protect my prince, and represent my people. You are not the same as I, Advisor."

"I seek purpose; to play a part in this war."

"On which side?"

Erestor met his gaze, face flushed red but eyes even. "My own."

There was a pause.

"Explain." The words, surprisingly, came not from Neorvik. "There is more to you then there at first seems. Who are you, Erestor of Rivendell, to use such skills?"

Erestor knew without clarification what was being referred to; what had made him such a likely suspect was, after all, the immediate fear of the unknown - of magic. Magic, again magic. It _always _came back to magic.

If it had been Neorvik who had made the request, he would have been denied, without hesitation; Legolas and perhaps even Narid would also be met with no answer. Somehow, however, the prompting by Feldir, so silent, thoughtful, seemed - appropriate. He was not so hasty as the rest, but he, too, required knowledge; and perhaps, maybe, Erestor owed them some portion of knowledge, to feel secure in their trust of him.

He was silent for a long moment. It was difficult to begin.

"I will not bore you with long details," he said, slowly. "The beginning of my story is of great excitement in its own way, but for the moment, let it be sufficient to say that I faced great perils even in youth; but not of the usual sort. From birth I was in danger; a prophecy of great magic foretold that it should be I who might kill the dark lord - unless he should kill me first."

The room stiffened. "Nay, not the dark lord you might think of. Another. He knew of this prophecy, and killed my parents through dark magics; but striking at me, his powers failed him, and he was gone, but not yet dead; and I lived yet. His spirit pursued me, and eventually his body, as he gained new strength; like Sauron, he possessed that power to come back from the boundary of Death and Life through his evil workings.

"I was at the centre of a great war, though it was kept secret and silent from others, and you will not have known of it. But it occurred, and killed many - young and old." And he remembered scarred faces and blood and promises and oaths, made and broken, remembered screams and pleads for mercy and sobbing masses asking _why won't you stop this, why won't you beat him - _"He was after me, and those by me; and I was protected, for only I could defeat him, but those around me were not. And they fell, one by one, and that was worse than any death."

An image of his closest friend's jawless, bloodied face, of a graceful but still body, so beautiful and horrible, face trapped still and silent in an endless, endless scream -

"He murdered them, brutalized them - and by the end I was captured, as well, but not by he; his minions, who thought to torture me themselves; and they did so, at length, til all the world was darkness and pain and I knew not who I was, or who were they, but only that I welcomed death; but it did not come. I was rescued, after months; and still recovering I was brought before the enemy, in a surprise battle; and I faced him who had done so much evil, and after great trial I through lucky chance killed him." He shook his head bitterly. "_That _is why I am a 'recluse', you fool elf; _that _is why I am a diplomat, not a soldier; that is why I am an introvert, and any else you may accuse me of."

The group seemed largely shocked to silence; all but one, unrelenting. "What of magic?"

"What of magic?" He shook his head bitterly. "What was _not _of magic? We were all magic, the thousands of us in that war. He was magic and I was magic and all my allies and friends, and all his followers; they all possessed those skills that I have, many in greater abundance. Magic was no great thing in that place."

"What place?"

"_Daro," _Legolas snapped. "Hold your tongue, Neorvik."

"What place?" He insisted.

"A place beyond the Sea," Erestor said. "A place unknown to you. Are you not yet satisfied, serpent-tongue?"

"Neorvik - " Legolas began angrily.

"My prince, what proof have we that he speaks truly? It seems more like that he was waiting for a chance to move against our plans on Sauron's bidding - "

"Proof?" Erestor asked, his odd detachment giving way to a sudden fury. "You seek proof? Here!"

And from those memories he tried so hard to leave behind came a word, loud and powerful, that made the elves leap back; and from the wand thrust at Neorvik came a burst of misty blue light that encased the implacable creature. He fell to the ground as a stone, silent.

Legolas let out a shocked cry, falling beside his companion; even Glorfindel watched Erestor with apprehension, the rest with fear.

"He is unharmed," Erestor said icily. "Wait."

Neorvik let out a great, terrible moan, eyes clenched shut. A sudden cry wretched from his lips, his body jerking, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

"Stop this!" Legolas cried. Erestor said nothing.

Neorvik writhed, great, strangled chokes coming from his throat, and it was clear he wanted to scream but could not. His body spasmed hard against the floor, sobs coming from his throat soundlessly.

"Please!"

Glorfindel looked at Erestor, eyes fierce. "Erestor - stop this."

"…"

Neorvik went still.

He gasped in shaky, tremulous breaths. Erestor met Glorfindel's eyes, then looked away, unable to understand why it should matter what this one, of all people, asked of him. He felt little pity in his heart for Neorvik, though he did shift as he heard his horror-laden voice.

"Gods - their _eyes - _my prince - so much _blood - _not again - "

"Calm, Neorvik," Legolas ordered, voice worried. "You are quite safe, I assure you."

"So much _blood - "_

"Rest."

Neorvik was clearly to shaken to resist. Legolas looked up at Erestor, eyes hard. "What have you done to him?"

"I gave him proof."

"_This?" _He swept a hand at the curled up form.

"He wished to know that which I was." Erestor looked at the crumpled form. "I showed him."

"Will he recover?" Glorfindel asked quietly.

Erestor looked at him. "The memories were mine. He will remember the sensations, but even an elf, I think, will not suffer overly from the memory of this. It will be distant quickly with the memories returned to me. The spell is not meant to torture."

Glorfindel, after a beat, simply inclined his head; the others seemed only more tense, and Erestor, due to his own hasty actions, knew their trust would be hard-bought now. He could not recall the last he had been so furious.

He had always had an issue with his temper.

Suddenly, distant, rhythmic noises were heard; a moment later Erestor recognized them as heavy footsteps, a man. No, several men. The elves turned as the door opened.

"Our king will see you now."

* * *

Theoden's face was cold as the elves were brought to him, now with considerable less welcome and considerable more accompaniment. A somewhat anxious Mithrandir hovered in the background; one or two guards eyed him, but Theoden would not dare think to accuse him.

The elves, however, were a different story. His gaze swept over them, then again; he scowled. "Five. Six there were, not a full day ago; where is he?"

"In the cell yet, my lord," a guard told him stiffly. "He has clearly taken ill."

"Elves do not take ill," Mithrandir said, straightening. "Has he been poisoned?" This directed at the elves, who shook their heads mutely. Theoden's dark mood deepened. "Bring him as well."

"Really, now - " Mithrandir tried, but fell silent at a quelling gaze; even he, Erestor noted bleakly, was afraid to raise the wrath of the hosts who surrounded them.

They waited in silence until Neorvik was brought - dragged by two guards by the arms, groaning. They came to a rest next to the assembled Firstborn and dropped him; he fell on the floor and lay without trying to rise. Legolas knelt anxiously, helplessly, and Theoden's eyes narrowed.

"What has happened to this one?"

Silence.

"That was not a _request _for information." The king's face was flushed with anger. "Answer!"

"Magic, my lord." Feldir said smoothly.

"_Magic?" _Theoden repeated. Mithrandir's eyes flickered between the groups rapidly. "Of what sort?"

"His." And quiet Feldir pointed unerringly at Erestor. "Lord Erestor, he who betrayed us all and killed the guard early this morning."


End file.
